Hold Out Hope
by trutenjase
Summary: Goten is forced to leave Trunks behind. What will happen when they are eventually reunited? What force could possibly tear these lifelong friends apart, and what will they do when they find out the truth? Yaoi: Truten.  REUPLOAD
1. Reminiscent Morning

Author's notes:

This is a reupload of my story originally published over three and a half years ago. As with most good stories, it went unfinished and became all but forgotten as real life's responsibilities caught up to me. A sad fact, considering that this epic of mine was and still is very dear to me, and was left very near its conclusion. But all good stories deserve to reach said conclusion, and this one is no exception.

I am uploading it under a different account for reasons that I won't go into here. I can offer no guarantee that I am indeed the original author, although hopefully my writing style speaks for itself.

The story is rated M in anticipation of foul language and graphic scenes, It is a the result of a restless night of pondering on the stories and elements which I love, and being given the appropriate push to finally write one of my own. It is a yaoi/shounen-ai, meaning it shall explore male-male relationships; if this makes you uncomfortable, then read no further.

For now, the story shall be told from Goten's perspective, but may change in later chapters. Flashbacks will be used in the form of entire chapters; as such, the story will develop in a nonlinear format. I figure these are things I should mention so as to not confuse people. Just pay close attention to the mention of ages and situations and there should be no problem figuring out what's happening when.

This is my first story, and my first yaoi one at that. All that said, please read, review, and enjoy.

Disclaimer:  
>The usual disclaimer.. these characters are not my property, any similarities in names or events to actual people is purely coincidental.<p>

**Chapter One: Reminiscent Morning**

For the first time since Dende knows when, I woke up naturally before the sun had risen. For a little over a year I've depended on the buzzing on my alarm piercing the silence of night to bring me out of my peaceful slumber, no longer having my mother to practically break down my door. If it wasn't the alarm that woke me, it was the sound of music blaring, the avid shouting of partygoers or the lustful shouts of sex in the air. Weekends were the worst in those dorms; ah, the wonders of college living. It was a hard adjustment for me, particularly after the eighteen years spent in the quiet forests far beyond the outskirts of any sign of civilization.

The day I graduated high school, my mother Chi-Chi made all the arrangements for me to go and study very far away. Far too much of my childhood had been squandered sparring, running around and generally wasting time with what she called a "horrible influence on her baby boy." If I ever had any hope of becoming a successful academic while marrying young and giving her the many grandchildren she'd always dreamed of – in other words, follow in the footsteps of my perfect brother, Gohan – she would have to intervene, and that only meant keeping me as far away from him as possible.

The day I found out, I remember crying harder than I ever had before. More than when my dad left to train with that Uub kid for who knows how long. More than in the midst of that ordeal with Majin Buu when everyone around me was taken away, dropping like powerless flies against his awesome might. It wasn't that I resented my mother's choice or that I had any particular problem with fulfilling her one and only wish; it was the fact that all of it would occur without Trunks at my side.

For as long as I remember we have done everything together. Train, spar, talk, play, make mischief, save worlds… you name it. I suppose that ever-present proximity had its drawbacks, especially when I began to have feelings for him. It was a huge source of torture and confusion to me for the longest time. The life of a teenager, especially one having to constantly hide his true power from the world, was hard enough without having to question his own sexuality. I don't think I'm gay. The years Trunks and I went to school together, after our respective home-schooling, we both had normal relationships with girls. Well, I had the relationships, he had the one-night stands. But despite being envious of every single one of those girls he was with, I've never had feelings for any other male besides him. I tried convincing myself that it has something to do with Saiyan instinct, and something deep within my genes drew me to him and him alone. But I abandoned that fantasy upon realizing that the committed heterosexual relationships of every Saiyan on this planet disproved the theory. Vegeta and Bulma. Gohan and Videl. Father and Mother, despite his multiple deaths and disappearances. Trunks and… and anyone else but me.

A loud banging interrupted my train of thought. "Wake up, Goten!" yelled my mother from the other side of the door. "It's already 7:30!" _Already?_ She always had a unique way of seeing things, from the time one should be up to what was a reasonable knocking volume. I began to muse over the old wake-up call, and how I didn't miss it one bit.

I had already been gone far too long, though. Too long for my taste, anyhow. I may have carried the burden of saving the world on my shoulders, but nothing compared to the newfound feeling of loneliness that came with being away from everyone I knew and cared about against my will. Mother giving me no mention of plans of bringing me back anytime soon, I gathered what little money I've managed to save up over the past year and bought a train ticket home as soon as my summer break started. Flying would have been too big a hassle if I had to bring all my things with me, especially since I hadn't flown once since I'd left.

It was the excitement of seeing Trunks that caused me to wake up so early. Since having arrived late the previous night, surprising my mother with my unannounced arrival, I spent the better part of the night awake in bed, remembering the each detail of the features and qualities I had fallen in love with: his flowing, lavender locks… his chiseled body... the way he teased me – although I always complained – on my brains, or lack thereof… his nickname for me, which was the closest I would ever come to his showing me any sort of affection; I was his Chibi, and I loved it. I wished we could be so much more.

In the time it took me to reminisce over all these things, the sun had already risen.

"Goten!" This time, Mother practically broke down the door. She may be human and appears frail, but part of me thinks that she has strength that rivals mine or my father's. I clambered out of bed, almost tripping over my suitcase and the many clothes scattered all over the floor. I made a mental note to leave most of it behind whenever I returned to school, as my dorm room granted little space for it. I finally opened the door; to my surprise, Mother was smiling. "Oh, Goten! I never get tired of seeing you!" she squeals as she wraps her arms around me. "I missed you so much. You've been gone for far too long."

I roll my eyes as I'm once again submitted to her smothering affections. As if I didn't get enough of this when I arrived yesterday. "If you missed me so much then maybe you shouldn't have sent me away," I grumbled.

My mother's embrace slacked as she pulled away. Had the bitter comment hurt her? "I'm only doing what's best for you, sweetie," she said as she cupped my face in her palm. I smacked it away.

"How is shipping me thousands of miles away from all my family and friends and leaving me with no form of communication _helping me_!" I screamed.

It appears that I've crossed the line. "Son Goten, how dare you speak to me that way! I am your mother and I know what's best for you and that's final!"

"Whatever. Don't blame me because you're irrational and you just don't want me around Trunks," I spat. Scratch that last thought, _now_ I had crossed the line. I don't know if it was my calling her "irrational" or having dared to speak a word after she declared her statement was "final," but her delicate hand made her way across my face anyway, leaving a large red mark where she had struck. The thought about her strength popped back into my head; that slap hurt like hell.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the vein that emerged on her temple, surely out of the mere mention of his name. "Don't you dare say that spoiled little brat's name, I don't want you to have anything to do with him!" she yelled. I was right.

I'd had enough. I walked past her, ignoring the look of utter shock sprawled across her face upon realizing that the great Chi-Chi, who had each of the Son men tightly wrapped around her little finger, had been disrespected so greatly by none other than her youngest son. "Where do you think you're going!" she yelled after me.

Again, I refused to acknowledge her, instead walking down the stairs of our tiny home, past the kitchen and out the door that I slammed behind me. I looked back to see that in my tantrum I had forced the door off its hinges; through the vacant frame I could see the breakfast banquet Mother had prepared for me. On the mere suggestion of food, my Saiyan appetite forced my stomach to emit a deep growl. Realizing I was hungry only served to further infuriate me.

I focused my ki and took to the skies, without any destination in mind. It was a strange feeling to have the wind rushing past my face and through my long, spiky locks once again. Since I had left for college I had used my power only once or twice. Between going to each of my seven classes, all the studying I needed to do to stay up to date in each of them and absorb all the information through what my best friend affectionately called my "thick skull," and working during any free moment and the entire weekend, I barely had time to breathe, much less train.

The last of these was the biggest source of frustration; it was hard enough being shipped away so far without having to think of the fact that my family was so poor that I had to work my ass off to make ends meet with this ridiculous arrangement we had. College was expensive enough without having to worry about the expenses that financed my meager living situation. I couldn't even afford a computer or a cell phone, and was consequentially quite possibly the only college student with no means of communication outside the people in his immediate vicinity. I felt pride in knowing everything I had was the result of hard work on my behalf, but I couldn't help but think about Trunks and how his entire life everything had been handed to him on a silver platter. Sometimes I wish he would help me out, but it would be too much to ask; even if he offered, I would still probably refuse.

Thoughts like these have been coursing my mind for the past year. At the end of each one, Trunks always pops into the picture somehow. _Quit thinking about him so much, you dolt_. But I couldn't help it, I loved him too much. If only he felt the same way. If only I had the courage to at least try to find out. But at what cost, facing rejection, having him never speak to me again? Each of those was infinitely worse than having lived with this constant frustration for the past five or so years.

"Goten?" I hear Trunks say distantly in back of my head. _Wow, I'm so obsessed with him that I'm even starting to hear his voice. _"Dende, is that really you, Chibi!" That time it was louder and almost sounded real. With a smack, I find myself falling to the ground with someone's arms tightly wrapped around me. I looked up to see long lavender locks falling down to meet my face. "Chibi, I missed you so much."

I had somehow ended up surrounded the by trademark domed buildings of the Capsule Corp, in the arms of my purple-haired prince. As I look into deep blue eyes, I think my heart skips a few beats.

**To be continued. Please read and review.**


	2. Moonlit Evening

Disclaimer:  
>The usual disclaimer.. these characters are not my property, any similarities in names or events to actual people is purely coincidental.<p>

**Chapter Two: Moonlit Evening**

All of our makeshift, close-knit family had gotten together to celebrate the monumental occasion… well, perhaps it wasn't so monumental considering that it was nothing altogether surprising. At seventeen, Trunks had officially graduated from Orange Star High School, a year ahead of the rest of his class and after only two years of education.

Neither Trunks nor I had minded our home-schooling. We had never known anything else, so we had nothing to compare it to. And despite being so young, I think we both knew deep down that we were two little menaces to society; unleashing two rambunctious young children with our immense power to the masses was a recipe for disaster. It had its upsides, though. In regular school recesses wouldn't have consisted of sparring sessions, and lunchtimes wouldn't be met with banquets fit for thirty humans.

I never figured out exactly why it was that my mother insisted that I cease my home-schooling. Perhaps the continued effort of teaching me all she knew about mathematics and literature and philosophy was becoming too much of a burden to the aging woman. I imagine it was definitely frustrating for her, as I was never quite as good a student as my brother, the Wonder Boy. A part of me believes that all she really wanted was for me to finally meet a girl and settle down, like Gohan and Videl. It may have been all these things, but whatever the reason, a few months after turning fourteen I was enrolled in the esteemed West City school that my brother attended, entering the ninth grade. The moment I was, Trunks insisted on tagging along.

I clearly remember the day I told him…

…..

Trunks and I were lying in the shade of one of the few trees left in the clearing that had been our sparring grounds for the afternoon. We preferred training out in the forests near my house; anywhere near the city was dangerous except for inside Vegeta's gravity room. Using it was out of the question since it seemed Vegeta did everything except eat and sleep in there. Not to mention that we both loved breathing the fresh air and viewing what made up the lovely scenery before we destroyed it with a few stray ki blasts.

The training session had left both of us exhausted, and it seemed that Trunks was taking a nap. I lay on my side, propped up on my elbow and just looked at him. I loved to watch him sleep, he looked so peaceful. He finally opened his eyes when a tiny, blue butterfly landed delicately on his nose.

"Did nobody ever teach you it's rude to stare?" he said as he looked at me out of the corner of his eye. Guess he wasn't asleep after all. The butterfly still rested on his nose, gently flapping its wings.

"Sorry," I said absentmindedly, noticing the butterfly was the exact same shade of blue as Trunks's eyes. _I can't help but to stare at you, you're beautiful_.

"Guess what I'm gonna be doing in a few months," I said, shaking the thought from my mind.

"Hmmm," he responded, scratching his head as he feigned thought, the butterfly finally leaving its improvised perch. "You're finally gonna come close to beating me in one of our sparring sessions after training nonstop the entire time."

"Oh, shut up. You're not _that_ much stronger than me."

"Don't worry, Chibi, you're just as strong as I was when I was your age," he grinned.

Ah, that age difference. In those first few years as teenagers he flaunted our ten-month gap every chance he got, as if it made him any more superior. As a proud Saiyan prince and the son of Vegeta, how could he not help but to have a superiority complex? He also reveled in the fact that he had reached his sexual maturity before I did, and took it upon himself to "educate" my innocent, naïve soul… corrupt is more like it. My mind jumped to a shoe box filled with pornography stuffed in the back of my closet, given to me by Trunks himself, stolen from his grandfather by him, and slyly hidden from my mother by me.

It wasn't long after that I reached my own point of sexual maturity and ever since I had, my mind was plagued with thoughts of my lifelong best friend. I didn't, erm, please myself often; when I did I rarely used Trunks's questionable present. It was enough to dwell on the memories of him changing in front of me or the times we'd bathed together when we were younger. The common baths had become less frequent as we grew older. It was a shame, because with age his body had developed quite well. I had a vivid imagination, and glimpses of his newly-sculpted body were enough to tide over my sexual cravings. I may not see him naked anymore, but there were still the moments where I saw him in his boxers or a towel.

"Ha, ha," I mock laughed. "No, silly. Mom wants me to start real school this next term. At the same school Gohan went to."

The grin faded from Trunks's face. "Same school as Wonder Boy, huh? No shit."

"Don't call him that," I flinched, partly from his nickname for my brother, but mostly from the foul word that came from his mouth. Profanity was the other way he tended to show that he thought of himself as an adult.

"What? He _is_ a wonder boy. You always complain how your mom's always comparing you to him, as if you're not good enough."

"Yeah, but…" I mumbled.

"What? We barely have time to hang out anymore because she's always pushing you to study so much, and only 'cause Wonder Boy was so much smarter than you. It's always about what she thinks you _should_ be without ever thinking about what you're capable of. You're a fighter, Goten, not a thinker. Why does she have to be a bitch for something that's not even your fault?"

"Shut up!" I snapped. The words irked me because I knew he was right. I didn't even have any urge to come to my mother's defense. Plopping down onto the grass and looking for shapes in the clouds, I crossed my arms in frustration.

Trunks sat up and leaned against the trunk of the large tree we were under. "I don't mean to be an ass about it," he sighed. "It's just that it really sucks that I hardly get to see you anymore. And you going to this school will only mean that I'll be seeing you even less. I just don't…" he trailed off.

"You don't what?" I asked after a long silence.

"Never mind," he answered.

I turned my head to look at him once more and notice the frown sprawled across his face, as to mirror my own. _What the hell was the matter with him? I'm the one that was just insulted here._

_I should change the subject. _"You see that rabbit?" I asked nervously.

Trunks looked around the clearing in confusion. "What rabbit? There's not a damn thing here for miles."

"In the clouds," I said, pointing up.

After a while, he finally found it. "Looks more like a deformed Thanksgiving turkey." As he said that, he got up abruptly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Confused, I pushed myself up and called after him. "Where are you –" But by then he had gathered his energy and had taken to the skies. Just as quickly as he had left, he became an indistinguishable dot in the sky. I sat in the clearing for a while in that same position, with my weight resting on my arms behind me. I failed to see if I had done anything wrong. I failed to comprehend why, or even if, he was angry at me. And for the life of me, I never found that turkey.

I didn't see him for a week after that. In worrying I had done something unforgivable, I called his house several times, but he was always training with Vegeta and he never returned any of my messages. Leave it to him to blame me for the argument that he clearly started. How like him to think he could do no wrong; being in charge of our little dynamic duo for all these years must have gone to his head. I gave up after the fifth straight day of calling, in part because I was bitter over the altercation, and in part because I was scared to drive him away any farther.

Then a week after the incident, in the midst of studying for my mother's latest, and thankfully last, geometry lesson, I heard a faint but familiar knocking on my window. Outside it, a purple-haired boy floated in midair wearing a smile to rival the infamous Son grin, the kind that is the result of either a pure heart or unbridled euphoria.

I frowned slightly and made my way to the window, opening it. "What do you want?" I grumbled.

Trunks's smile didn't falter. "So, guess what I'll be doing in a few months." The familiar question went right over my head.

"Keep treating your friends like crap for no apparent reason?" I blurted.

"Nope, but good guess," he laughed as he climbed into my room and threw himself on the bed. My books and notes fell with a thud onto the floor of my messy room. I didn't mind the interruption; between the two of us, I was never the studious one.

Despite wanting him here, having longed for days on end to see him, I didn't let my hurt and annoyed act waver. "What the hell do you want, Trunks?"

"Just thought you'd wanna know that my mom finally enrolled me in school," he beamed. "Something about a fruit. Um…Apple Star? Banana Star?"

"You're going to Orange Star High!" I yelled excitedly. My anger and frustrations melted away when I realized that my best friend and the love of my life would actually be going to school together, seeing one another every day without the need to tear ourselves away from our watchful mothers' eyes under some pretense, or altogether sneaking out. I climbed on the bed and began jumping up and down, as if regressing back into a five-year-old. For the first time in a while, my face bore its signature Son grin.

"Yup," he laughed, taking in my reaction and the expression on my face. "Quit it, you're gonna break your bed." Still ecstatic, I reluctantly stopped jumping and took a seat next to him on the bed.

"I love it when you smile like that," Trunks said as he looked up at me.

"I'm really happy. I'm gonna get to see you every day now!" I laughed. "Now that I would start school I was worried we'd see less of each other."

"What are you talking about?" he exclaimed as he sat up next to me, throwing his arm around my shoulder in the midst of the sentimental moment. "You know I wouldn't let that happen!"

"I hope so," I admitted.

"It was hell to convince Mom to go along with it. She was being a real bitch about it, something about finishing studying with her then going off to business school. But I wasn't gonna go along with that," he explained as he brought his hand up to my long, spiky hair, affectionately running his fingers through it and massaging my scalp. "You and I will always be together, Chibi." The simple act sent chills down my spine and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I wished the moment would never end.

…..

Being a year older than I was and three times as smart, Trunks had easily placed into the grade ahead of mine; although, not before countless arguments with Bulma on the matter. It turned out that the fighting with his mother was the reason for his disappearance that week so long ago. He was meant to be home-schooled for the entirety of his education, as if to ensure the future of the multibillion dollar empire he would eventually inherit. My being responsible for this hiccup in the career plans for her son had taken me out of her good graces somewhat. She forbade him to talk to me; it was her that told me Trunks was training with Vegeta all those times; the many messages left weren't unreturned, they were just undelivered.

Bulma had done a good job teaching her son; he was way ahead of the class he placed into and could very well have finished in only a year rather than the customary three that remained. He chose not to, however, something about not letting me have all the fun. That second year was another source of countless arguments between the two, as if the arguments to get him enrolled in the first place weren't bad enough. When tensions between them had reached their peak, Bulma finally won her son over in the battle of letting him continue on an additional year; she had already conceded too much.

Trunks may not have been the youngest graduate of Orange Star High, but he was definitely the fastest one, in and out within a span of two years. So in a way it _was_ an occasion worth celebrating, one worthy of the feast prepared on the ample grounds of the Capsule Corp. complex. It was a beautiful night; few stars were visible, not due to cloud cover, but from the dimming effect the city lights surrounding us had on them. Rivaling the urban illumination was the light of the full moon up above us; it was still low in the sky and had a tinge of yellow to it. The half-dollar-sized moon hid mischievously behind the urban skyline.

I looked at the meal in front of me, my mouth watering and stomach growling in anticipation. Bundles of fruits; several whole hams, chickens, and turkeys; breads of different kinds piled several feet high; gutted fishes with eyes looking up almost pleadingly at you; enough red meat to have been taken from seven different cows; a mountain of rice which was threatening to spill over at any second; and enough cakes, pies, and ice cream of all flavors to fulfill the fantasies of a hundred children. The four long tables set up on the vacant lawn held enough food to feed an entire army. Few people attended the celebration, but the one full Saiyan and five demi-Saiyans present accounted for the appetites of several hundred people.

"Be patient little brother," Gohan whispered into my ear as I started longingly at the mountain of desserts. I only glared at him as he pushed his thick, unnecessary glasses farther up the bridge of his nose. I hated those glasses so much. The idea that a Saiyan needed glasses was the equivalent of suggesting a man with perfect vision needed a seeing eye dog; at least the dog could be kept as a pet. Needless glasses to make himself look smarter… how like the Wonder Boy. _How long had I been using that nickname for him?_ Over the years it sort of just stuck.

I began walking around, looking for something or someone to distract myself from the food. I caught sight of Vegeta off in the distance, not being able to tell if he looks aggravated or overjoyed as Bra clings onto his leg. Fatherhood suited Vegeta, or so it appears it has this second time around. The moment Bra was born, he may as well have sprouted another arm or leg, as Bra seemed to be a permanent fixture latched onto some part of her father's body. A tinge of jealousy sparked in the back of my mind; I wish I'd had a father to latch onto.

Wonder Boy had since gone off, back to his wife and daughter. Pan, who had only just turned four, had yet to learn self-control and no amount of lectures from her father distracted her attention from the chocolate cake that seemed to be calling out to her. Videl only smiled, admiring the toddler in the beautiful polka-dotted dress she wore.

Off beyond them, my mother and Bulma were talking to Trunks excitedly; even with my enhanced Saiyan hearing, they were just out of earshot. I was curious as to what they were talking about, not because I'm meddlesome but from the angered expression I made out on Trunks's face, so reminiscent of Vegeta, in the distance. It was such a stark contrast against our mothers' excited expressions; maybe Trunks was just annoyed at their usual zeal and understandable pride and excitement. I wonder if it was anything more.

"Uncle Goten," Pan called, interrupting my train of thought as she pulled on my pants sleeve.

"Yes, Panny-chan?" I asked, squatting down to match her meager height.

"Daddy won't let me have cake. Can you get me some?" she pleaded, flashing the grin she inherited from her grandfather, twirling back and forth, looking as angelic as possible. Who could possibly say no to that?

"Sure thing," I whispered to her. "But only if your dad doesn't find out."

"Deal!" she squealed, running to the dessert table. Just as she had yet to learn how to be patient, she hadn't quite grasped the art of being inconspicuous.

It was an hour before we all finally sat down to eat, and it only took a fraction of that for the veritable banquet to disappear from the tables. As our insatiable Saiyan hungers were temporarily quenched, the moon rose higher in the sky, shrinking from an amber half-dollar in the sky to a pearly-white dime in the distance.

The celebration wrapping up, everyone began saying their goodbyes. Mom, Gohan, Videl and Pan made their way towards the humble car parked in the distance. As I made to follow them, a hand on my shoulder held me back. "Where do you think you're going?" Trunks inquired.

"Uh, home?" I answered, confused.

"No you're not. You're staying here tonight," he laughed. "I already talked it over with mom and Chi, they're cool with it." I looked at him questionably. Mom agreeing was understandable, but Bulma and I hadn't been very friendly with one another since Trunks started school. She blamed me for sidetracking Trunks's education, as if I brainwashed him to go along with the idea of going to school.

"Your mom actually wants me here?"

"You're like family to her, Chibi," he laughed. I scoffed at the lie. "Besides, how can she deny me this after I finally caved in and graduated like she always wanted?" True, Bulma was ecstatic at this turn of events. Who knows? Maybe she'd forgotten about all this animosity between us.

"Come on," he said, pushing me into the main house. "I swiped some vodka from my grandpa." Trunks always took questionable things from his grandfather. I don't know if it's because he was heartless kleptomaniac, or if it was just easy to steal things from the senile man.

A whole movie and several drinks later, Trunks and I lay pretty buzzed on his large, circular bed. I never got tired of coming here, gazing awestruck at the immensity of the room that seemed as large as my whole house. Watching movies on the large projector screen wasn't bad, either; it was like actually going to the theater. Other than the bright, full moon shining through the vast window opposite the door, it was the only other source of illumination in the room.

"Comedies are so much funnier when you're drunk," Trunks hiccupped.

"Haha, yeah." My mother definitely would not have agreed to let me stay if she knew these were our plans.

"I'm gonna miss this," he mumbled.

"Whaddya mean, 'miss it?'"

"Well. Now that I finally graduated, Mom wants me to start business school as soon as possible. And as soon as I've finished that, I'll be taking over the company," he lamented. I easily picked up the disappointment in his voice. This must be why he was so miserable at the party whereas our mothers were surging with pride and joy.

As my heart sank, I was lost for words. Over those past two years, Trunks and I had become closer than ever. And now here I was, for the second time in my life facing the prospect of losing him forever. The older I grew, the more I acknowledged that it was something that would become a reality sooner or later. Wishing it was later I had always tried not thinking about it, as if not dealing with the issue meant it would never come. But come it would, and what would I do when it did?

He groaned as he got up and made his way to the bathroom inside his own bedroom – yet another luxury I wasn't afforded in my own home – stumbling several times along the way and almost falling twice. I'd always had higher tolerance for alcohol than he did; not that I was entirely sober myself, but at least I was sure I could walk straight.

Maybe it was time to start thinking about telling him how I really felt. What good was it hiding these feelings for fear of losing him when life's circumstances would eventually tear us apart anyway? Maybe if I did it now while we were both slightly inebriated I could play it off like a bad joke, or he would only barely remember it in the blurred recollection of tonight's events.

Trunks stumbled out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a pair of black shorts, his beautiful features accentuated by the moonlight coming through the window he faced as he clumsily made his way to the bed. I took them all in as he collapsed to my left onto the plush, magenta sheets.

I guess here's where I would sleep tonight. The large bed was more than big enough for the both of us, but as we'd grown older we began sleeping in the same bed less and less. There were plenty of guest rooms in the complex and over the years I'd begun to take advantage of them. But without anyone to tell me otherwise, who was I to turn down the opportunity to sleep next to my handsome prince?

With my foot, I pulled closer the remote control that lay at the end of the bed. I shut off the projector, the room becoming further bathed in the light cyan-colored moonlight. As I did, Trunks lazily rolled over and rested his head on my left arm. My heart began to race as I realized I had become his makeshift pillow. "I don't wanna lose you, Chibi," he slurred sleepily.

"You're drunk."

"Mmm," he affirmatively groaned.

It was now or never. "I love you, Trunks," I said, just above a whisper. "More than just a friend or a brother. I want to spend the rest of my life with you." I waited as my heart raced faster.

"Ai-byoo-too-chibi," he mumbled quickly before beginning to snore. _Yeah, he's definitely asleep_. I watched the even rise and fall of his powerful chest bathed in moonlight and admired the sprawled out body that occasionally grazed my own.

I took a chance upon his state of unconsciousness and curled up next to him, his body contouring to mine as I rested my head on his own. I hadn't been this close to him in years; the contact made my insides stir and the bulge in my pants grew. I moved slowly, gauging his reaction, wishing he wouldn't wake nor move so we could stay like this forever.

_You'll never be this close to him ever again. _I curled my free arm around him, running my fingers down the line between his chest, through the ripples of his flawless abdomen, chancing a grab at forbidden areas further south.

Trunks stirred as soon as I did. I pulled my hand away swiftly but silently, hoping he hadn't noticed. He turned over on his side, his body facing me, and draped his leg over me. My heart beat a mile a minute as I held my breath, wondering if he would stir, if he knew I was awake, if he realized what I had done. I relaxed when he began snoring again.

_This isn't right._ I can't practically molest him while he's drunk and asleep. If it was gonna happen, it can't be like this. Sighing, I ran my fingers through his soft, violet locks and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Good night, my love."

Embracing him once more, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. As I did, I could've sworn I saw two white orbs somewhere near the doorway. Must be the moon's reflection.

**To be continued. Please read and review.**


	3. Elucidative Afternoon

Disclaimer:  
>The usual disclaimer.. these characters are not my property, any similarities in names or events to actual people is purely coincidental.<p>

**Chapter Three: Elucidative Afternoon**

In the countless times I'd flown here over the past nineteen years it seems the trajectory had been programmed into my autopilot, which apparently became activated while I was lost in thought. As a result, the moment I'd been anticipating for so long had finally arrived. It had been well over a year since I'd last seen Trunks. Fantasizing over his features had done me little good, as they'd drastically changed in that time.

The usually neat, slightly nerdy, bowl-shaped haircut that tended to clash with every other one of the features that resulted in his practically oozing sex appeal was gone. In its place were longer locks that swayed gracefully as the wind blew through them. Smiling down on me, his hair's back and forth dance tickled my nose.

He released me from his overzealous embrace and pushed himself up off the ground, still kneeling as he straddled my body. My mind raced when I realized the overtly sexual position we were in. _This is one hell of a welcome_.

In his new position I could better see what other aspects of him had changed. Through the loose tank top he wore I noticed he had visibly lost some muscle, presumably from lack of training. It wasn't nearly as much as me, though; whereas I had done no training whatsoever in the midst of the hardships of my new life, I suppose he still had Vegeta to coax him into the occasional visit to the gravity room.

Taking in all the new features, I noticed the beautiful smile slowly fade from his face as it contorted into an awkward grimace. Before I barely had time to register the sudden frown, Trunks's fist met my face in the exact spot that was still red from my mother's slap. With a hand larger than hers, the powerful blow had landed not only on my cheek, but on the side of my nose. It seemed everyone wanted to hit me today.

"What the hell was that for!" I shouted, feeling the blood trickle from my nostril.

"For leaving," he stated matter-of-factly as he rubbed the balled-up hand he hit me with. "What? You deserved it," he shrugged, a smirk forming on his face. "Welcome back."

"You'd better have a damn good explanation," I growled, slightly wincing from the pain, which would have been tolerable had I been expecting it. "Or else—"

"Or else, what?" he cut me off, rising to his feet. "You could never beat me before, what makes you think you could now?" He extended his arm to help me up.

"For one, you're out of shape, you arrogant asshole," I growled, wiping the blood away with my left hand and taking the outstretched arm with the right one, standing up.

"If I'm out of shape then you're an amorphous blob," he laughed, pointing out the amount of weight I'd lost. "Besides, if anyone's gonna do any explaining here, it's you."

I wondered if my face showed any indication of my state of confusion. Trunks had gone from blissfully knocking me out of the air with a hug to punching me in the face; from overjoyed in seeing me to inexplicably angry at who knows what, and right back to complacent and content. Strangest of all, he was demanding an explanation for something and I still had no clue what I had done.

"Explain what!"I shouted, still angry.

"Well, when your lifelong best friend suddenly disappears for a whole year without a trace, I think a little explanation is in order."

"I was off studying, you idiot," I growled. "Just like you were." Was he angry because I hadn't gotten in touch with him this entire time? _I've been busy working_. Not everyone has the infinite resources of one Mr. Trunks Briefs.

"That's not what I mean, you dork. But don't worry, Chibi." Trunks raised his hand once more. "I'm sure you've got a perfectly reasonable explanation." I flinched, preparing for the third hit that morning; instead, his hand made its way past my face and into the black spikes I called hair, which he affectionately ruffled. I loved whenever he did that; so much so that as if by magic, my rage melted away.

"But first things first," he quipped, throwing his arm around my shoulder. "You hungry?" Right on cue, my stomach began growling and I smiled bashfully. Like my Saiyan appetite would ever turn down a meal, particularly after skipping out on the feast my mother prepared.

"I'll take that as a yes," he laughed as we began walking toward the residential complex. "Sorry for that punch. I really _am_ happy to see you, you know."

"Nice way of showing it," I grumbled.

The sun had risen higher up in the sky, and the warmth that came with it became noticeable. A strong breeze compensated for the warmth, while it blew Trunks's long hair all over his face. "Damn it," he griped, grabbing a rubber band out of his pocket and tying the wild, purple mane into a ponytail. The look really suited him.

We shortly reached the glass doors leading to the large kitchen. Through them I could make out Bulma's signature turquoise hair, which bounced in perfect rhythm with the slicing motions she made on the granite counter. It was odd sight to see her preparing food. In all the times I'd been here over the years, she had only done so on very special occasions. She left the everyday cooking to the hired chefs, yet another luxury their largess allowed. It wasn't that she was lazy or a bad cook; if I had to oversee the feeding of three Saiyan appetites like she did, I would hire full-time chefs as well. It's a miracle that they keep finding chefs to hire; most of them only last a week before quitting, overwhelmed by the excessive amount of food needing to be prepared at all hours of the day. I never understood how my own mother could stand it.

"I don't get why you don't just get the chefs to do that," Trunks mumbled.

"Because I barely get to see you anymore, sweetie," Bulma sighed as she finished chopping some onions. "And I wanted to do something speci—" The color drained from her the moment she turned away from the mountain of uncooked ingredients to face in our direction, her eyes growing wide, the knife in her hands falling to the floor with a metallic clang. She looked like she'd seen a ghost.

Trunks ran to his mother, concern washing over him. "Mom! Are you all right?"

Bulma's breath quickened. "Yes, sweetie, I'm fine." She quickly rubbed her eyes, as if she couldn't see properly. "You just caught me by surprise."

"Are you sure you're okay, Bulma?" I inquired, still standing by the door. "Should I go and get Vegeta?"

"Goten." She blinked. "No, I'm all right now. It's great to see you, Goten." She slowly walked in my direction and hugged me softly. "When did you get back?"

"Yesterday," I answered. "I had some money saved up and decided to come back for my vacation."

"Well, isn't that nice?" she smiled. The color began returning to her cheeks.

"You scared me there, mom," Trunks sighed.

"I'm sorry, dear. Maybe I'm just getting old," she laughed, bending down to pick up the dropped knife. "Anyway, lunch won't be ready for a while." A rhythmic tapping filled the room again as Bulma continued chopping the onions.

"Oh yeah, do you mind making more food? I invited Goten to stay for lunch." The chopping stopped.

"What am I, some servant to be fulfilling your each and every whim?" she snapped, stabbing the knife into the cutting board. "I've been slaving over this meal all morning and now you just expect me to pull more food from out of thin air!"

"Well, can't you just get the che—"

"_No_, Trunks, I _can't_ get the chefs to cook it instead!" she roared. I could see Trunks cautiously backing away from the menacing Bulma; I was already with my back against the glass door. Her current temper rivaled Vegeta's at its worst, and I had no idea what set it off. "If you want to have lunch with Goten then you can go do it somewhere else!"

"But mo—"

"_No,_ GO! I'll give this food to your father and your sister, who will appreciate it!" With that, she grabbed the phone and stormed out of the room.

Trunks and I stood in silence for several minutes, reeling from the scene we'd witnessed. It was him that finally broke the silence.

"What… the hell… was that about?" he said above a whisper.

"I dunno," I whispered back. "Maybe she's on her period?"

"I'm pretty sure she's already hit menopause," he laughed back. "So as long as we're not welcome, where would you like to go eat?"

"Anywhere cheap," I answered, an image of moths flying out of my empty wallet coming to mind. All my spare money had been spent on this trip home, and I was counting on the hospitality of friends and family for keeping me fed.

"Nonsense," he scoffed. "What cheap meal could satisfy our mighty hungers?"

"Uhh," I grumbled.

"Don't worry, Chibi. I'll pay," he said, somehow picking up on my concern. My face must have looked as worried as I felt.

"Thanks… I'll pay you back," I said automatically, not exactly knowing how or when I'd pull that off.

"Sure thing. But I think I'd better change first," he laughed, pointing out the loose, faded tank top and the stained, wrinkled cargo shorts he wore. "People are gonna think _I'm_ the one needing the handout."

"Yeah," I chuckled, following him up the stairs to his bedroom.

It brought back memories to be inside the oversized room once again… playing video games as children; watching the same movie for the eighth time out of boredom; all the times we'd gotten drunk in secret.

"Place looks emptier than I remember," I pointed out.

"I moved out a long time ago," Trunks responded nonchalantly. "I'm gonna take a quick shower. Watch some TV or something in the meantime," he said, stepping into the bathroom.

I threw myself on the large circular bed. Grabbing a fistful of the familiar magenta sheets, I remembered the night when I had been closest to Trunks, a night that I still thought of constantly and whose memory I used to please myself regularly. I seized a nearby pillow and held it up to my nose, taking in the exceptional scent. _Lilac and cedar_. I could never explain the unusual combination of his distinct aroma, all I knew is that it drove me wild.

Losing myself in thought once more, I hadn't noticed when Trunks stepped out of the shower. "Trying to kill yourself?" he asked, taking the pillow from me.

It took a moment to focus on the display in front of me. Trunks wore nothing but a towel loosely tied around his waist, and hadn't gone through the trouble of drying himself properly, still dripping wet. Despite the slight weight he'd lost, he was still quite a sight to behold. I could feel myself blush, and I wondered if he noticed.

"Um… uhh…" I stammered.

"Come here." He slipped one hand under my chin, placing the other hand next to me on the bed and bent down close to me, until his face was inches from my own. I could feel his damp purple locks sticking to my cheeks and his warm breath grazing my chin. His right leg had emerged from the opening in the loose towel and had somehow wedged itself between my own legs hanging off the bed.

As my pulse quickened, I felt the blood rush to my head. I'd gamble the color of my face was now somewhere between crimson and scarlet. My head wasn't the only place blood had rushed to; my lower regions were getting the same treatment and by now I was fully aroused.

"Wh… what are you doing?" I asked nervously.

"Huh?" he absentmindedly responded. "Oh, I'm just checking your nose… making sure it's not broken."

He jerked my head in a few directions to get a better look. I sighed when he eventually pulled away, half-relieved, half-disappointed. I quickly shifted my position so Trunks wouldn't notice the bulge in my pants.

"It's fine," he sighed as he ran his fingers through the wet hair, tying it into a ponytail, and walking into the closet. "Why were you blushing so much? Did you think I was gonna kiss you or something?" he shouted from inside the wardrobe.

If it was at all possible, I think I blushed even more.

"No… just…" I replied slowly.

Trunks emerged from the closet fully clothed, wearing ripped jeans and a black Capsule Corp. t-shirt with its large, white logo emblazoned on the front.

"'Cause I think," he began, walking leisurely toward me. "That you would enjoy it if I did," he said slowly, putting emphasis on every word. Placing his hand on my chin once more, he traced the outline of my lips with his thumb as his azure eyes met mine. "Wouldn't you, Chibi?"

Looking down at his own velvet lips, it took every ounce of my willpower not to pull him down and engulf them in a passionate kiss as I ripped off the clothes he had just put on. I knew he didn't want this. My hormones were practically begging for me to take him right then and there, but my brain knew he was just teasing me as he has so many times before. It was a hard battle, but my brain won in the end and I pushed him away forcefully.

"Get off me," I croaked. It was so hard to push him away.

Trunks stumbled backward and fell on the floor. Noting the look of shock on his face, I wondered what about what had just occurred would make _him_ shocked. Maybe he didn't expect me to push him so hard.

"Sorry, Goten," he said softly. "I just…" he trailed off.

"You just what?"

"I was just kidding around. Guess I took it too far."

I sighed. I knew it was just his bad idea of a joke. I wish he knew I took it so seriously. "It's okay," I lied.

"Anyway," he exhaled. "Shall we get going?"

We focused our kis and flew out the window, not wanting to run into Bulma after what had happened earlier. We touched down soon after, knowing nothing good would come of flying over the densely populated city. Seeing two men engage in unaided flight would raise far too many eyebrows, particularly when one was the future president of Capsule Corp. It was a shame; I was beginning to enjoy feeling the wind rush past my face once more after so long.

We had been walking for half an hour, talking about random things along the way, when we finally stumbled upon a nice-looking Italian restaurant. The large window donned a picture of a stereotypical Italian man with a handlebar mustache, in front of which were quaint, metal, round tables on the sidewalk with a large, green-and-white parasols over each one to block patrons from the sun.

"This place looks good," Trunks suggested.

"Yeah, I love Italian food."

"You love anything that's edible," he laughed.

Sitting down at an empty table, Trunks looked through the menu while the waiter came. I was too distracted by the people walking by and the cars and motorcycles zooming past us.

A tall, Asian man with a thick accent and a fancy tuxedo eventually came to our table, robotically pouring water into the upturned glasses on our table. "Hello, my name is Giuseppe and I'll be your waiter. Are you ready to order?" he asked. This man appeared to be many things, but a Giuseppe was not one of them. Either his job called for a fake name, or his parents decided to get creative when he was born.

"Yeah," Trunks said automatically, not looking up from the menu. "I'll have four lasagnas, six orders of fettuccini, ten pepperoni and mushroom pizzas, and five chicken parmigianas."

Giuseppe's eyes widened as he scribbled on his pad quickly to get the entire order. "Is that all sir?" he asked sarcastically.

"And a bowl of cheese and broccoli soup," Trunks replied, finally closing his menu. "What are you having, Chibi?"

Giuseppe's jaw dropped when he realized the veritable banquet was for Trunks alone.

"I'll have the same," I mumbled, never having looked at the menu. Giuseppe could only nod incredulously before walking away.

"So," Trunks sighed.

"So, what?"

"About that explanation," he finished.

"Trunks, I seriously have no idea what it is you want me to explain. Ask me a question and I'll answer it, but don't expect me to enlighten you when I don't know what the hell you're talking about," I indignantly retorted.

"Let's start with why you left."

I turned my attention back to the many pedestrians passing us by on the sidewalk. One of them even bumped into me.

"Pardon me," the random man blurted automatically as he continued walking and sat a few tables down from us.

"Did you just see that guy?" I asked Trunks.

"Yeah, what about him?"

"He kinda looked like Gohan, didn't he?" I mused.

"Don't change the subject. Answer my question."

"I told you, I went off to study. Geez, Trunks, I thought you were a genius," I replied, becoming annoyed.

"No shit," he growled. "But why, after a whole year of research and planning you ditch our plans and just leave one day without saying a word?"

The words took me completely by surprise. "Whaddya mean without saying a word? What about that letter I left for you?"

"What letter?" he asked, a genuine look of confusion forming on his face.

"The letter I gave to my mom to give to you!" I exclaimed.

"Chi-Chi never gave me any letter."

I blinked in disbelief. "But I made her promise she wouldn't forget to give it to you!"

"Maybe she didn't forget," he sighed. "Maybe she neglected to give it to me on purpose."

"But…" I mumbled, an overwhelming of confusion invading me. "Why in the world would she do that?"

"Don't be dense, Chibi. Your mom hates me and we both know it."

There was an awkward silence. It was a rather noisy silence, what with the noise of the passing vehicles, the conversations of the other restaurant patrons and its passersby, and the ubiquitous clanging of silverware coming from all around us.

"She doesn't hate you," I finally said. "She just thinks you're a bad influence."

Trunks only sighed. Maybe he acknowledged his less-than-stellar effect on me over the years, but it was something I appreciated. I liked the person I became because of it. It was certainly better than having ended up like Wonder Boy.

"I didn't wanna go, you know," I added, breaking the silence once more. "As a matter of fact, I'm miserable there."

"So why did you?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, Trunks, but I'm kinda stupid and really poor," I laughed.

"You're not stupid," he asserted. "And what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, since I barely got passing grades at Orange Star, the school isn't giving me any money," I mused. "And the amount of time I'd have to work to support myself on my own would leave me no time whatsoever for studying."

"Why would you need to support yourself on your own?" he asked, leaning in.

"That week you had to go back, Mom got all this paperwork from Dende-knows-where for the school I go to now. She said that if I didn't go there I may as well go out on my own because she wasn't gonna support me."

Trunks drummed his fingers on the metal table, a concerned and confused look on his face as he took in all the new information. It was now perfectly clear why he had attacked me this morning; he should have known all of this, but didn't because my mother was either cunningly vindictive or aggravatingly irresponsible.

"It was all really bad timing," I continued. "You left, she came at me with the paperwork and the threats a few days after, and a few days after that I had to leave to start studying. That's why I left you the note, 'cause I knew I'd be gone before I got a chance to explain."

"Why didn't you call or write?" he asked somewhat angrily. I wondered whether he was angry at me or the unfortunate circumstances.

"Like I said, I'm poor. Just 'cause I had my mom helping me out doesn't mean we nearly had enough money to pay for it all. When I'm not studying or going to class I'm waiting tables, and most of that money goes to paying for where I live. Lucky for me I get free food at the restaurant I work, but it's not a lot. It took a lot of getting used to only eating about a small plate or two of food a day."

"What! You're barely eating!" Trunks yelled in shock. "No wonder you're so thin!"

"Yeah," I sighed. "Well, the little money I saved up I used to come back here. I barely have time to sleep so I wouldn't even have had time to call you. So even if I could afford a cell phone, it wouldn't have done me any good."

"What are you talking about! Of course it would have!" Trunks shouted, standing up angrily. "Chibi," he exhaled, putting his hand on my shoulder. "If I had known any of this I would have helped you out."

I knew that would come sooner or later. The offer for help I would infinitely appreciate and could definitely use, but would feel so guilty for taking.

"Come live with me," Trunks blurted out.

"What?" I asked incredulously.

"Come live with me at my apartment and we can study together like we always wanted. Your mom managed to get in our way before but there's nothing to stop us now," Trunks said eagerly, grinning from ear to ear.

"She may have tried to get her way by threatening me, but she's still my mom. I can't just defy her like that."

"You admit that she threatened you, you know she manipulated you –" he began.

"I don't _know_ she manipulated me. You just think that," I said defending my mother without particularly knowing why.

Trunks sighed. "Okay. She _may_ have manipulated you, it seems that she's lied about a lot of things, and you're still concerned about defying her?"

My head ached as I contemplated the situation.

"Come on Chibi, you said it yourself, you're miserable over there. Come live with me and you can be happy," he uttered merrily, putting his hand on my shoulder once more.

"Geez, Trunks, you'd think we were dating and you wanted us to finally move in together," I laughed, not quite knowing why I said that. Freudian slip, I guess.

"Just say yes," he smiled, putting his hands together as if to beg. "Please?"

"Okay," I agreed. "But only 'cause you begged."

"Dork," Trunks laughed.

As if by clockwork, six waiters showed up to bring us the mountain of food we had ordered. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the strange pedestrian pay his food and jump into a Ferrari parked across the street, driving away at top speed. _Definitely not him_. Wonder Boy in a Ferrari? _That's impossible_.

The day had been long, though definitely interesting. I basked in the wind in my face as I so enjoyed and the sun setting behind me as I flew home, reminiscing about the quite literally close encounter with Trunks – yet another memory to fuel my fantasies – and reveling in the fact that my nightmarish experience from this past year would at long last come to an end. I could live with Trunks like I'd always wanted; it wasn't quite the same as being in a relationship with him, but it was probably the closest I would come. And it certainly beat the distance and lack of communication from him my previous arrangement entailed.

I landed in a clearing just outside my house, the sun having disappeared below the horizon and the last remnants of daylight slowly fading. I was surprised to find my mother had fixed the door – granted, she had nothing better to do. I think I'll wait until tomorrow to tell her these recent developments; I don't want to ruin my good mood with an unnecessary fight.

"Mom, I'm home," I shout.

"Hello, Goten," she replies dryly from the small kitchen. So, she's still mad. Let her be.

The phone begins to ring, and on the third ring I pick it up. "Hello? This is Goten."

There's no reply.

"Hellooo?" I ask again.

"Oh, hi Goten. It's Bulma. May I please speak with your mother?"

"Sure, Bulma, just a sec," I respond. "Mooooommm!" I shout, holding the phone away from me. "It's Bulma," I say as I hand her the phone.

I slowly begin my ascent up the stairs when I hear a hollow clatter. When I look down, I see my mother dropped the phone, her eyes wide in shock.

**To be continued. Please read and review.**


	4. Change of Plans

Disclaimer:  
>The usual disclaimer.. these characters are not my property, any similarities in names or events to actual people is purely coincidental.<p>

**Chapter Four: Change of Plans**

_Oww._

My head was pounding. _You shouldn't have drank so much_.

I lay sprawled on the bed, the first rays of sunshine coming through the large window and directly into my eyes, causing them to sting somewhat. I didn't want to get up, in part due to the hangover, but mostly due to where I was and more importantly, who I was with. Adjusting to the brightness, my sight could barely make out the image of Trunks next to me. My arm was no longer his pillow, but the image that greeted me made me somewhat glad that was the case.

Trunks lay face-down, his face to the side and scrunched up against the sheets so as to give him the appearance of someone pressing his cheeks together. From his open mouth came a steady stream of saliva; rolling down his cheek and onto the plush magenta bedcovers, the intrusive liquid darkened the sheets in his immediate vicinity to a shade of burgundy. Despite the disheveled look, I still think he looks stunning. It was a face only a mother could love… apparently, so could your best friend who harbors an impossible and insatiable crush on you. I couldn't help but smile as I listened to the soft, almost endearing sound of his snoring.

I reluctantly get up, stumbling from the familiar feeling of exhaustion that's absent of any signs of sleepiness. Ah, hangovers. I shut the curtains so Trunks can continue to sleep peacefully, although from the looks of it, nothing short of an apocalyptic cataclysm could bring him out of his incapacitated state. Walking to the bathroom to wash the stale taste out of my mouth, I notice the bedroom door is open. _Had that been open this whole time?_ I shrug as I close it and walk back to the bed, sitting down next to Trunks. Softly running my fingers down his back, I wonder why every morning couldn't be like this.

I continue to the bathroom and begin brushing my teeth with Trunks's toothbrush. _He won't mind._ What he doesn't know won't hurt him, I suppose. Taking in my reflection in the mirror, I can't help but laugh. My signature spikes atop my head had all but disappeared, most of them having been flattened; the few that weren't stuck out erratically from the side of my head. I also noticed for the first time that I hadn't bothered to change out my clothes since yesterday, having slept in my faded jeans and newly-wrinkled black dress shirt. I was even still wearing my socks. The closest I had come to undressing was having undone the top two buttons of my shirt, my chest slightly exposed. I suppose I was a little preoccupied last night with other things.

_You could use a shower_. Spitting out the toothpaste, I began to undo the remaining five buttons, slipped the shirt from my shoulders, and let it fall to the shaggy rug by the door, my jeans, socks and striped boxers soon following it. I step into the low shower and closing the glass door behind me, turn on the faucet as the hot water falls on me and steam fills the room. I let the water pool on my messy mop of hair, a steady stream falling to the marble floor as the water overflows. I grab the showerhead and direct the water straight at my face while I close my eyes and visualize the events of the previous night. Having Trunks so close, wrapping my arm around his body as he draped his legs over mine; running my fingers through his hair, all over his body, planting soft kisses on his temple.

The mere memory enthralled and excited me. I grabbed the soap and began lathering myself, lost in thought. Thinking back to each of his perfect features bathed in moonlight, and the unbridled access I was allowed to each one of them, I slowly became aroused once more. Almost instinctively, my soapy hand found its way to my engorged member, gently grazing it in a slow and steady rhythm. The memory became more vivid and my imagination ran wild with it; I imagined what would have happened if I hadn't pulled my hand away last night when Trunks stirred; I visualized him pleasing me as I could only dream he would; I envisioned his hand as the one whose rhythm grew progressively quicker on the arousal that had been begging for release since yesterday.

I ran my hand through my soaked hair before placing it on the adorned wall of the shower, my legs buckling from the pleasure and needing its additional support to stay on my feet. The feeling of ecstasy had spread through my entire body. "T…Trunks…" I moaned softly.

"Yeah?" I heard his muffled voice call out above the muted noise of the toothbrush I had used minutes before.

My body froze and my eyes shot open. _Did he see you?_ I looked to the glass door separating us, seeing it slightly fogged up. Though blurry, I could still make out his figure and the back-and-forth movement of his arm as he continued brushing.

"Wh…what are you doing in here!" I exclaimed nervously.

The noise of running water from the faucet mixed with that of the shower as Trunks bent down to rinse. "Brushing my teeth," he said nonchalantly. "And you left the door wide open, you idiot. You might wanna close it if you're gonna be doing _that_," he laughed as he closed the running faucet.

_Shit. _He had seen me.

"Unless you wanted me to catch you," he drawled, coming closer to the shower door.

"Um… uh… wh… why would you think that?" I stammered.

"You were saying my name as you did it," he declared, leaning against the door. "You weren't thinking about me, were you, Chibi?"

My heart beat faster, knowing I was caught red-handed. "What? No! You just… you caught me by surprise, is all," I lied. "I only said your name out of shock."

"Oh," Trunks sighed. "Fine, then. Well, hurry up. I need to shower too." Leaving an imprint on the steamy, glass door as he arose, he left the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

_That was close._ I couldn't help but wonder how much he remembered from the few moments he was barely conscious, or if he knew what I had done when he wasn't. I pushed the thoughts out of my head and finished showering. I dried myself with one of the soft, lavish towels hanging off the towel rack and wrapped it around my waist, grabbed my stray, discarded clothes and exited into the large room. Trunks lay on the bed, flipping through channels on the oversized television.

"I'm done," I croaked uncomfortably.

"'Kay," he responded as the TV flipped between cartoons and the weather forecast.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

"Head hurts a bit, but otherwise fine," he laughed as he made his way to the bathroom.

"Uh, Trunks…" I mumbled.

"Yeah?" he asked, stopping and turning to face me.

"I'm sorry for doing that. In your bathroom, I mean."

"Nah, don't worry about it. I've done it at your house once or twice," he chuckled. "I'm the one who should apologize. I know you weren't thinking about me, I was just teasing you, Chibi."

"Yeah, I know," I sighed. I hated when he did that_. _"I kinda don't have any clothes," I blurted.

"You know where the closet is. Help yourself," he said, walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

I picked out some generic clothes branded with the Capsule Corp. insignia and headed down to the kitchen to have some breakfast, finding Bulma and Vegeta already enjoying a meal of their own, each sitting at opposite ends of the long glass table.

"Mornin', Bulma. Hi, Vegeta," I said, pouring myself some cereal. I had been here enough times over the years to be granted full access to their food, unfortunately losing the privilege to have it served to me by my otherwise hospitable hosts.

Bulma stayed silent. Vegeta grunted. The response was not unusual from the habitually silent Saiyan prince, but Bulma was usually relatively warm towards me and despite everything we had gone through. Never had I gotten the silent treatment from her. _Maybe she's distracted_.

I grab my bowl of cereal and make my way towards the table. In almost perfect synchronicity, Bulma stands as I take the seat between her and Vegeta, leaving me alone with him as she walks off without a word. I squirm uncomfortably being alone with the Saiyan prince, the awkward silence between us being broken only by the crunching of my cereal as I chew.

"How's your training going?" I ask hesitantly.

Vegeta gazes at me out of the corner of his eye as he sips on some coffee, as if to study me. "Good," he responds, putting down his mug and swallowing loudly. I was surprised to even receive the monosyllabic answer, expecting yet another of his customary grunts, or no answer at all. I quickly thought back, looking to confirm whether this had been the longest conversation we'd ever had in the years I've known him.

He stood up and headed towards the glass doors to leave the kitchen, presumably toward the gravity room he calls home to continue his training. After sliding it open, he stood in the open doorway momentarily.

"Be careful," I heard him say softly before sliding the door shut behind him. Be careful of what? Maybe I'd misheard him. I don't have long to linger over my thoughts before Trunks comes down and joins me for breakfast.

I didn't see very much of Trunks the following weeks. All the arrangements he had to make for enrolling into his school were taking up most of his time. It didn't help that all the potential universities were practically at war with one another over who would eventually win the coveted prize of having the privilege of supplying Trunks with his education. That, and the prospect of some hefty donation from his family were making him quite a commodity.

Slowing down the process was Trunks's insistence on settling for a university we could both attend. While he counted on superior intellect and practically limitless funds, I had neither. My grades were hardly the best over the years, despite his help, and without him there we both knew they had little chance of improving. But being accepted was only the first issue at hand; paying for it was another obstacle I'd eventually have to overcome.

"You have to stop letting me hold you back," I pleaded for what seemed the hundredth time one night he came to my house. I don't know why we chose my confined, messy room to have our discussion rather than the open, welcoming forests around my home Trunks and I had called our haven for so long. Perhaps we both sought some comfort for a change, something that my bed was certainly granting me and the humble office chair at my desk seemed to grant him as we tossed a dirty tennis ball back and forth between us.

"For the last time, Chibi, you're not holding me back," he responded, a hint of aggravation in his voice. "This going to college thing is just a formality. I'm perfectly capable of running the company right now if I wanted. Not that I do," he laughed.

"Just gotta pee on the stockholders, right?"

"_Appease_ the stockholders," he laughed as he corrected me. "People would be a lot more secure with me as head of CC if my lineage wasn't my only qualification."

"I think the company would go bankrupt if you took charge tomorrow," I teased.

"Oh ye of little faith," he scoffed, playfully throwing the tennis ball directly at my head. "Besides, how am I supposed to enjoy what are meant to be the best years of my life if you're not there?"

"You'll be there a full two years before I even join you," I pointed out.

"Yeah, and those two years I'll be miserable. That's why I'll need you there, I'll be suffering from withdrawal of the havoc our dynamic duo could wreak," he chuckled.

Trunks ended up choosing Takatsu University, a school of moderate prestige not too far away; several hours' distance from West City by car, even closer by air. Ever the overachiever, he worked on obtaining four degrees simultaneously. With our respective responsibilities and now-conflicting schedules, I knew I would see very little of him over those next two years. Not that it was a big deal; I had my own schoolwork to deal with, particularly if I was to focus on raising my grades enough to be able to go to the same school like we'd planned, a difficult task without him around to help. Wonder Boy offered to be of assistance every now and again, but his presence and continued offers to aid me only served as a constant reminder of my resentment towards him. Whenever I doubted his deserving my feelings of contempt I thought to my mother's shrill voice, aggravated at my not being the perfect son, as she compared me to my brother for the millionth time. _Screw him_.

Devoid of either my best friend or my brother's assistance, I began to spend more and more time on my studies. I had even stopped my training, partly because of the new time constraint, but mostly because I lacked my favorite sparring partner. Both these changes in me seemed to utterly delight my mother, which ended up being a good thing as tensions at home eased up significantly. With all my time being consumed by school, studies, and reveling in the memory of the events at Trunks's graduation party, before I knew it the time had come to celebrate my own graduation. A testament to how time flies when you're distracted.

My mother had made all the arrangements. It would be a humble soiree held in the picturesque forests around my house, with the usual guest list of our exclusive friends and family that have been bound by all we've been through together. Even some of my dad's old friends were coming, but I think that had less to do with my special occasion and more with them having a reason to get together after so long. I kind of wished my dad would come, but we had seen neither hair nor hide of him since he left to train Uub. I really didn't care either way; the highlight of the occasion would be seeing Trunks again after so long, who had been so busy that I had seen him but three times since his initial departure.

Late in the afternoon they began arriving one by one. To my mother's and my surprise, Piccolo was the first to show. My mother was somewhat apprehensive of him, and despite my having grown and not having him tower over me like he used to the last time I saw him when I was a child I still found him to be extremely intimidating. We didn't even greet one another; he simply leaned against a tree with his arms crossed and eyes closed, cloak blowing in the wind. It was a little awkward, to say the least.

Not soon after, Wonder Boy drove up with Videl and Pan in their car. I didn't even need the visual confirmation to know they had arrived; the squeaking, squealing, and sputtering of the piece of junk he called his family vehicle always announced his presence from miles away, no calling ahead or ki-sensing needed. I got a hug from each of them when they arrived, more because of the occasion rather than not having seen each other; they did come over every weekend, after all. When he saw Piccolo, my brother excitedly went to greet him and wrapped him in an eager embrace that seemed to make him extremely uncomfortable. I always thought those two looked weird together.

Krillin flew in with 18 and Marron; I hadn't seen either of them in years. Marron had grown up to be quite a lovely young girl; she had even begun to develop some rather alluring features, despite only being 14. It was something my mother didn't hesitate to point out. She was always hell-bent on my getting married young; apparently she wanted it to be to someone even younger, even if it verged on pedophilia.

Bulma, and Vegeta, and Bra drove up soon afterward, a certain lavender-haired young man conspicuously missing from their party. Bulma came up and hugged me, acting definitely warmer than that the last time I had seen her, the morning after Trunks's own celebration. Vegeta put his hand on my shoulder and nodded silently, which was the closest he would get to showing any semblance of affection.

"Congratulations, sweetie," Bulma said, hugging me once more.

"Thanks," I responded.

"This is a nice little get-together you have here. Even some of our old friends came," Bulma pointed out. "Wow, I haven't seen Krillin in years. And Marron's gotten so big!" she declared.

"Hasn't she? And she's such starting to fill out quite nicely," my mother gossiped.

"Don't you think she and Goten would make a cute couple?" Bulma giggled.

"I was just telling Goten that!" Mother responded.

There they go again… "Did you come alone, Bulma?" I asked, eager to interrupt and curiosity getting the best of me.

"Of course not, silly. Vegeta's here, isn't he?" Bulma laughed as she locked arms with the Saiyan prince. Surprisingly, no grimace crossed his face. Indeed, he had changed a lot since Bra was born.

"So, Trunks didn't come with you?" I asked, disappointed.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Goten," Bulma said, hugging me consolingly. "He's been so busy with schoolwork that he's not gonna be able to make it."

My heart sank upon hearing that news. The times I had seen him lately were already few and far between, and now he would be missing the celebration in which I so looked forward to seeing him. I was so sure that if anything could drag him away from his myriad of responsibilities, this would be it.

"Oh, come on, Mom, you don't think this is more important than any dumb schoolwork?" a voice came from behind Bulma. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a bowl-shaped mess of lavender.

"Trunks!" I exclaimed excitedly.

"Trunks?" Bulma echoed as she spun around quickly. "Sweetie, I'm glad you made it!" she replied as she went to hug him.

"Yeah, thanks to Gohan," Trunks declared.

"My brother? What did he do?" I asked in confusion.

"It was from him that I heard about this little party," Trunks replied, eyeing his mother apprehensively.

"You didn't get the message I left you on your answering machine?" Bulma gasped.

"Nope," Trunks said blandly. "Guess I must have erased it by accident."

"Well, the important thing is, you're here," Bulma smiled, affectionately placing her hand on her son's cheek. "Good thing you talked to Gohan," she said, biting her lip.

"Yeah," I remarked questioningly. It was so uncharacteristic of Trunks to be speaking with Wonder Boy. My resentment of and nickname for him were both things that had rubbed off on me from Trunks's own disdain for my brother.

"I'll leave you two boys to catch up. Come on, Chi-Chi, I have something to show you," Bulma said quickly before grabbing my own mother by the arm and taking her inside our house.

The moment they were gone, I wrapped Trunks in a tight embrace. "I missed you so much, Trunks," I remarked, absentmindedly placing my head on his shoulder.

"I missed you too, Chibi," he said, wrapping one arm around me and ruffling the spikes atop my head with his free hand.

"Why were you and Wonder Boy talking?" I inquired, pulling away from him.

"Well, since you're graduating – congratulations, by the way, this is a day I thought would never come," he teased.

I lightly shoved him as we began to walk away from our house.

"So yeah, he wanted to talk to me about what your plans for college were, and if I played any part in them," he explained.

"Why talk to _you_ about that? Why not talk to me?" I inquired.

"Says he tried, but you turned him away anytime he started discussing anything academic," he replied as he tore a branch from a tree and bemusedly dragged it through the grass as he walked.

"Oh," I sighed. "He's tried to help me with school a lot these past few years. I didn't really want his help in the first place, and when he kept insisting I got annoyed with him and told him to fuck off," I said, matter-of-factly.

Trunks laughed at the comment, surely reveling in the fact that he's had such a profound effect on me, particularly in my manner of speaking. "He actually seemed pretty excited about the fact that we would be studying together."

We came upon a small lake, in which I barely made out some small fish under the clear, blue water. "He's just happy that I'll be studying at all," I retorted, picking up a stone and skipping it on the surface. The startled fish swam away in all directions.

"That, or he knows that I'm the only one that can actually get you to keep your grades up," he laughed. "After telling him our plans, we got to talking about the party and how he hoped to see me here, only that was the first time I'd heard about it," he continued.

"But Bulma said she left you a message," I said blankly.

"Yeah, I'm sure she did," he replied, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Anyway, as soon as I'd heard from Gohan, I tied up my loose ends and flew back."

"Well, I guess it's good that you talked, then," I smiled. Wonder Boy may be annoying as hell, but if he was for the idea of me and Trunks studying together, I guess he wasn't such a bad guy after all.

"My mom was right, though. I'm fucking swamped right now, especially because I've spent so much time on this." Trunks unbuttoned the jacket he wore and pulled an unmarked envelope from one of the inside pockets.

"What's this?" I asked, smiling from surprise and curiosity.

"Open it," he laughed.

I pulled a series of official-looking letters from the envelope. Distracted by a large blue-and-gold "T" at the top of the letter, the logo of Trunks's school, I could only just barely make out my name and the words _congratulations_ and _accepted_ as I skimmed over it.

"I got into your school?" I asked incredulously. "I didn't even apply yet."

"That's what I was working on," Trunks laughed. "All the academic and housing arrangements are taken care of, courtesy of yours truly."

"This is great, Trunks…thanks," I said slowly, still somewhat overwhelmed. "I'd been working so hard since my grades are pretty much crap, I thought I'd never get into Takatsu."

"No prob," he smiled.

"How long are you here for?" I asked abruptly.

"Actually," he began, the smile fading from his face, "I gotta go back tonight."

"But you just got here!" I protested.

"I'm really sorry, Chibi, but I still have two more weeks before I'm finished and I have a ton of work to do," he said, placing his hand on my shoulder consolingly. "Cheer up, we'll get to see as much as we want of each other when we live together."

The second paper in the envelope confirmed what he just said. Indeed, in three months' time we would be living together. Seeing each other every day seemed like a fantastic dream after having spent the better part of two years apart. I beamed at the thought.

"There's that grin I love to see," he laughed. "Now come on, let's get back to your party," he said, placing his arm around my shoulder as we walked towards the house.

After the short walk back, I could make out my mother, Bulma, and Gohan talking somewhat heatedly at the edge of the clearing where my house was. It was Gohan waving his arms in the air, seemingly upset about something, that caught my attention – not that I particularly cared. It was a while before my mother even noticed I was back, and she didn't hesitate to berate me about my disappearance from my own party.

The party went rather well. I was disappointed at the fact that Trunks had to leave once more, but he promised he would return once his classes ended. At least this time around I would be completely free of work and responsibility so as to be able to enjoy his time back. And in a few months, not seeing him would be the least of my troubles.

Once everyone had gone, Wonder Boy and I got stuck with the job of tidying up and putting everything away, while the ladies did what I could only imagine consisted of gossiping and watching television. When everything was finally in its place I headed towards the stairs to go turn in for the night, when my mother called me from the kitchen.

"Sweetie, come down here, I have something to show you," she beckoned.

Exhausted and wanting nothing but to go to sleep, I begrudgingly trudged down the stairs to see what she wanted. "Yes, Mother?" I asked upon reaching her.

"Well, Goten, now that you've graduated, I think it's time we sat down to talk about what you want to do with the rest of your life," she began.

_Here it comes_. I prepared myself for the usual spiel of settling down and becoming a veritable baby-making machine for her. "Well," I began, a hint of excitement in my voice. "Trunks and I have been wanting to study together ever since he started college and he just told me today that I was accepted in his school."

I had forgotten that she had yet to find out. I knew she would be thrilled to find out that I would be studying at one of the best schools in the region, finally living up to her expectations for my academic potential. I braced myself for her joyful squealing and an overzealous and proud embrace.

But to my surprise, her face remained expressionless, as if my words had gone in one ear and right out the other.

"Did you hear what I just said?" I questioned. "I got into Takatsu."

"Do you have any idea how much that school costs?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"Well, yeah, but—"

"Where's that money going to come from?" she interrupted me.

In my excitement the detail hadn't even crossed my mind. "I thought we could cross that bridge when we—"

"Just because your friend was born sitting on top of a fortune doesn't mean we were so lucky," she snapped.

"But I could work and I maybe you and Go—"

"Me and Gohan could what? Throw away what little money we have so you can follow that spoiled brat?" she spat.

"Don't call him that," I growled. Now it was my turn to get angry.

"Don't you use that tone with me, Son Goten," she nagged. "You're not going to Takatsu."

I was incredulous. The woman who for so long had pestered me about my academic excellence, or lack thereof, and had goaded me to strive to be even half as good as my genius of a brother was reproaching me for actually having surpassed him. "I thought you wanted to me to go to college," I barked.

"I do. And you are." She slowly rose from her seat at the kitchen table and made her way to the counter where she picked up an unmarked folder.

"What's that?"

"I've made all the arrangements for your schooling and housing. All the information is in this folder," she declared, placing it in front of me.

I felt a tingle of indignation, surprise, and confusion spread through my body as I slowly opened the folder. "Ruikasa College? I've never even heard of it."

"It's about a day's trip from here by train. The train tickets are in the folder… you leave in three days. You start school in five," she uttered.

The legs of the kitchen table groaned, threatening to break as my fist came down onto it in anger. "Did you even plan on consulting any of this with me?" I roared, eyes wide in shock.

"I don't have to consult you about decisions regarding your education and well-being," she exclaimed.

"And if I refuse to go!" I shouted.

"In three days you're leaving this house, Goten. Where you go, and whether you can count on my emotional and financial support, is entirely up to you," she stated blankly, with a tone of finality in her voice, before heading for the stairs to go up to her room.

I don't know how long I stood in the kitchen, which seemed unusually warm for the time of year due to my blood boiling and my labored breathing. It was a hand on my shoulder that took me out of my trance.

"You okay, little bro?" came Gohan's voice.

I felt like breaking the first thing that came to sight. I was lost, confused, and ambivalent. The mixture of feelings bouncing in my head made me unsure whether to cry uncontrollably or scream in rage. Needless to say, no, I was not okay.

"I heard the whole thing," he continued. "You two were kind of loud."

I only sat in silence, listening to the crickets chirp outside as my brain continued to process what had just happened. Gohan sat next to me, twiddling his thumbs as if to bide his time until the silence could be broken.

"I can't fucking believe her," I finally said.

"She just wants what's best for you," he replied. "You know how carried away she can get sometimes."

"Did you hear the part about her kicking me out?" I asked. It was strange being so open with Gohan; this seemed like the longest conversation we'd had since I was a child.

"I think you should just go to this school," Gohan said slowly.

"What the hell?" I exclaimed, raising my voice once more. "I thought you were all for me and Trunks studying together!"

"Yeah, but not if you defy mom in the process," he said in his defense. "You have no idea how hard it will be to survive out there on your own."

"What, so you're not gonna help either!" I clamored.

"Goten…" he sighed. "I'm barely getting by as it is. I have a wife and daughter to take care of, and with Dad gone…" he trailed off. "It's just hard on all of us."

"Why the hell are you siding with Mom, though?"

"I'm not siding with her… it's just that…" he said slowly.

"Just that what?" I exclaimed.

"She's still our mother. That counts for a lot, you know."

My temper rose once more. If ever I had any feelings of contempt toward my brother, they never came close to the anger I felt towards him right now. I got up from the chair, knocking it over in the process, and headed towards the door to go out and get some air.

"Just think it over, Goten. I'd hate to see you suffer because you made a rash decision," he managed to say before I slammed the door behind me.

I focused my ki and took to the skies, navigating through the dark forest aided only by the moonlight. I ran over the events of the past hour in my head for what seemed the tenth time. I contemplated the "what ifs" of each scenario as I weighed my options. Go along with my mother's inexplicable stunt and be separated from everyone I know and love, forgoing the dream come true of studying and living with Trunks – the closest I could ever hope to get to him as I harbored my forbidden crush. Go off and try to make it on my own, not being able to count on the assistance of my destitute brother or the mother that practically disowned me, having to work endlessly at a low-paying job to finance myself and barely having time for school, if at all. If I was to pick between one or the other, it wouldn't be the best choice, but rather the least miserable and tragic of the two.

I landed in a clearing and lay on the grass, breathing in the fresh air, hoping to clear my senses, wishing my problems would melt away. I ran over each scenario over and over as I stared at the full moon that shone down on me and made shapes in the myriad of stars above me. _Why was this all so difficult?_ I closed my eyes and thought of Trunks, wishing he were still here so he could help me make sense of all this.

When I opened my eyes once more, the deep violet sky had been replaced with a bright, light blue, my surroundings once again clearly visible. When had I fallen asleep? I got on my feet and took off once more. The sun was pretty high in the eastern sky, meaning it was late in the morning. The first thing I needed to do was clear: call Trunks and talk this all over with him. I had few people to turn to, and it was obvious that my mom and brother were not at the top of the list. Trunks and I hadn't discussed how I would pay going to Takatsu, or living with him, but it wouldn't surprise me if the idea of helping me to pay for some or all of it crossed his mind. Even so, my pride will probably not allow me to accept such extravagant help.

I flew to my window and entered my room through it, running to the phone and quickly dialing his number. It rang once. _Pick up._ Two more rings. _Come on, pick up_. After two more rings, his voice came from the other side of the line.

"Hello…"

"Trunks! You'll never believe what—"

"You've reached Trunks Briefs. I can't come to the phone right now…" the recording continued, cutting me off.

Voicemail. Damn it. I silently listened to the rest of the message, until hearing the monotonous tone that let me know I could speak.

"Trunks, it's Goten. Call me as soon as you get this, it's an emergency," I said, trying to mask my mounting level of desperation.

Hanging up the phone, I caught sight of my brother out of the corner of my eye. "What do you want, Wonder Boy?" I asked, throwing myself on the clothes-riddled bed.

"Where'd you go last night?" he queried, ignoring the nickname.

"To think," I quipped.

"You make a decision yet?"

I shook my head.

"Listen," he said, entering my room and sitting down on the bed next to me. "I know this must be hard. Mom's being a total monster about all this."

I chuckled inwardly. "Monster" was the closest Wonder Boy would ever come to insulting anybody, particularly our mother.

"I wish she wasn't, and I wish I could help, but she is and I can't. She's got all the cards right now and she's playing them just right. So the only thing you can do is look at everything objectively and make a choice." I stayed silent as he spoke. "I just… I don't want you to suffer and miss out on so many opportunities because you were pushed into doing the wrong thing. Despite what you think, I care about you, little brother."

I only sighed as I took the words in.

Placing his hand on my knee, he mirrored my sigh. "I'll be here if you need to talk." He stood up and made for the door, stopping before he exited. "I know you'll do the right thing," he finished, flashing me a thumbs-up.

I lay on the bed for the rest of the day, thinking over the difficult decision to be made, waiting for the phone to ring. But it never did. I tried calling Trunks back four more times before the day ended, but I got his voicemail every time. Before I knew it, night had fallen and I easily drifted off to sleep once more.

I awoke the next morning feeling slightly nauseous, overcome by a mixture of starvation and nervousness. I knew that by tomorrow I would have to give my mother my final answer. I checked my phone to confirm that Trunks still hadn't returned my message; calling him for the sixth time in two days only got me his voicemail.

I sighed heavily as I climbed out of bed and headed toward my closet, grabbing a suitcase from the back and tossing it in one of the few clear areas of my floor. Grabbing whatever clothes I saw around me, I unceremoniously threw them in the bag, not even bothering to fold them. As I owned more training gear than I did normal clothes, it wasn't a very long process. Before I knew it, the only things left in my room were posters and trinkets from my childhood that I knew would do me little good in the new life that I was to reluctantly lead. I sat at my desk and grabbed a pencil and paper, staring idly at the blank sheet, carefully thinking over the words that I would eventually scribble onto it.

_Trunks,_

_I tried calling you a bunch of times over the past few days, even if only to ask for your help in making this really hard decision._

_My mom signed me up for a school really far away… I start in a few days and I leave tomorrow. You know as well as I do that I would love nothing more to go to Takatsu with you, but I can't afford it and my mom threatened to kick me out and cut me off if I didn't go to this other place._

_I really wanted to tell you all this in person, or at least over the phone. But, oh well._

_It was a really hard choice to make. I want you to promise that you won't be mad, and that I never expected things to turn out this way. It breaks my heart that it all came to this. I'll be back eventually, because like you've always told me, nothing can keep us apart. Our friendship is too strong for that._

_I'll miss you._

_Love,  
>Goten<em>

I read over the letter a few times, focusing on the two lines at the bottom. Unsure of what he would make of it, I turned over the pencil in my hand and erased the word "love" before folding it and placing it in an envelope, writing "Trunks" on the front. Sighing once more, I tried calling Trunks yet again, to no avail.

The next morning my mother knocked on my door, louder and earlier than I would have liked. Already dressed, I climbed out of bed and grabbed my suitcase, opening the door for her. The dejected look on my face and the barren condition of my room seemed to answer the question she was going to ask – yes, I had given in. I did my best to contain my anger upon seeing how happy this turn of events made her. Gohan's voice rang clearly in my head…. _I know you'll do the right thing._

"You'll send me the rest of my stuff when I'm over there, right?"

"Of course, sweetie," she said, running her fingers through my raven locks and hugging me softly. "I'll miss you so much." _I bet she will, the passive-aggressive bitch_.

"Mom, can you do me a favor?"

"Anything, sweetheart," she replied.

I pulled the envelope out of my back pocket. "Could you give this to Trunks when he gets back? I tried calling him to tell him what happened but I couldn't get in touch with him."

She blinked.

"Just do me this favor. With all I'm doing for you, it's the least you could do," I pressed, sensing her hesitation.

"Okay, Goten," she gulped, before hugging me once more and handing me the train ticket that would take me to what would become my new home.

Buttoning up my jacket and grabbing my suitcase tightly, I focused my ki below me and took off towards the city. Behind me I thought I heard a ripping noise; I looked back to see my mother waving. I must be imagining things.

**To be continued. Please read and review.**


	5. Out in the Open

Disclaimer:  
>The usual disclaimer.. these characters are not my property, any similarities in names or events to actual people is purely coincidental.<p>

**Chapter Five: Out in the Open**

_She looks like somebody died._

That was the only thought that had crossed my mind when I stared at the blank expression stamped on my mother's face when she dropped that phone. What had happened? What had she heard? Who was she talking to? All questions I asked her the moment I ran to her aid, a wave of shock having spread over me after seeing her in such a vulnerable state. I grasped both her shoulders softly but firmly and shook her slightly, hoping to bring her out of her stupor.

"Are you all right?" I pleaded.

"It's nothing, Goten," she slowly responded, the blank expression never disappearing from her face. "Go on upstairs."

I withdrew my hands as she bent down to pick up the dropped phone. "Are you sure?" I asked with genuine concern in my voice.

"Yes," she gulped. "Now go on, I have to take this," she declared as she walked to her first-story room, closing the door behind her, as if nothing had happened. I was confused, to say the least. Perhaps she was just being her normal, irrational self.

Despite what had transpired I had more important things on my mind; satisfied that nothing was seriously wrong with her, I once again began the climb up the stairs.

I was surprised to find my humble room noticeably cleaner; I guess fixing the door wasn't the only housework my mother had done since I stormed out. What was once a mess of clothes and books scattered about unsystematically, covering every visible inch of the wooden floor, had become neatly-folded and perfectly stacked upon my bed. I was somewhat grateful, particularly because it would make my part of the plan that much easier.

While Trunks returned to his apartment in the distant North City, he had assigned me the sole task of getting all my stuff together; I was to pack all my books and clothes and send for whatever I had left behind at Ruikasa. Not that there was much of either. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, absentmindedly running it between my fingers.

On the paper Trunks had scribbled the address to which I would have everything sent – presumably the address of his apartment – and his cell phone number at the bottom, as if I didn't already have it memorized. He promised to take care of everything else. The instructions were met with protest on my behalf, particularly when I considered what "everything else" might entail. Yet it was like arguing with a brick wall, and he got his way in the end. Hardheadedness was already one of the defining traits he had gotten from his father; being the unofficial leader of our little duo over the years had only served to set it in concrete.

We hadn't agreed on when we were going to put our little plan into action, and considering the remaining months before school started up again there was no particular rush. Nevertheless, in my excitement for the things to come I had managed to once more pack up my belongings in the suitcase from which they originally came, my room barren once more except for twin-sized bed in one corner and the small desk in the opposite one.

Shoving the note in my back pocket, I threw myself onto the empty bed and stared at the ceiling, becoming hypnotized by the revolving fan that hung from it. _Wonder what she'll say when you tell her_. After all my mother had done to get me to go to the school I'd begrudgingly called home this past year, I contemplated how she would take the news. Would she be happy that I had somehow found a way to go to the better of the two schools, or be furious at the act of defiance? There had to be more to all of this than just financial difficulties; maybe Mother subliminally resented my best friend and his family's wealth, and this is how she chose to express her jealous inferiority complex.

Lost in thought, I hadn't noticed when she appeared at the door. I didn't register her presence until she sat down on the bed next to me, the new distribution of weight on the bed causing me to lean slightly to the left. She sat and I lay in silence for a while; the only sound in the room was the whirring of the ceiling fan, uttering a mechanical groan after each complete turn.

"You gonna tell me who that was?" I queried, breaking the silence.

"Videl," she replied quickly.

I hadn't actively thought who it could have been, but with my mother's short list of family, friends, and acquaintances the options were few. Not really having anticipated it, the answer caught me by surprise, and I felt my body tense.

"What did she tell you that was so shocking? Is anything wrong with Gohan?"

"It's nothing serious," she sighed, turning to face me. "She's taken care of it."

A small sigh of relief escaped my lips; for as much disdain as I had toward my brother, he was still my brother and I cared for him on some dysfunctional and unconventional level. The run-in with that man earlier had revived my thoughts of him for the first time since I had left a year before.

"I just worry about you two so much," she continued, running her fingers through my black spikes. "With you running off like today and now this, I've had just about as much as I can handle," she pronounced in an accusatory tone.

Should I have felt any amount of guilt? I didn't for some reason, but not lacking in my sense of common decency, I opted to apologize anyway – even if I didn't mean it. "I'm sorry, mom. I didn't mean to upset you."

"That's okay, sweetheart," she smiled, running her fingers through my hair once more. "But just so you don't pull a stunt like this again, you're forbidden to leave this house until it's time for you to return to school."

My eyes widened, not sure exactly what I was more appalled at: the ultimatum, or the fact that she could deliver it so calmly and with a smile on her face. "What!" I shouted.

"That's right," she affirmed, the smile never fading from her face, the urge in me to push her off the bed and from my side increasing by the second.

"Just how do you expect to keep me in here!" I blurted angrily. "Lock me in? Or did you happen to forget that I could break any lock with my bare hand and fly away whenever I wanted?"

"Goten, if you leave, you can just forget about ever coming back here or counting on either my emotional or financial support. It's either your room here or out on the street – you pick," she threatened, her resolve increasing and her smile becoming even wider.

My eyes grew narrow as I shot my mother a glare so vile that I'm sure it suggested some sort of desire for her to drop dead right then and there. I silently got up off the bed and made toward the suitcase I had prematurely but conveniently prepared. It appeared it was time to move up my timetable.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, the smile finally fading from her face, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

I angrily picked up the tattered and overstuffed suitcase, pausing only a moment to debate whether to answer my mother's question, gloriously rubbing it in her face. "I pick the street," I spat, storming out my bedroom door.

Suitcase in hand, I trotted down the stairs hastily so as to not give my mother the satisfaction of getting the last word on the matter, something she so loved and prided herself on always having. I stepped out of my house, only to be met with pouring rain. "Great," I mumbled, lamenting my lack of umbrella.

I focused my ki and took off, flying straight up into the sky, over the clouds where I would not be doused by the sudden shower. The full moon's light seemed brighter now that I was closer to it, so much that I had to squint to not be blinded. Except for the wind, it was completely silent those thousands of feet up. I didn't like silence; it provided me with ample opportunity to think, and I seldom had positive things to think about. Running the events of the past hour in my mind, I wondered what I could do now. Granted, I had all my possessions with me, but where was I to take them and myself? I knew I could now count on Trunks to back me up, but could I just show up unannounced at his place?

I reached into my back pocket and pulled up the crumpled note with Trunks's address. Not that I needed it; I could sense him, after all. But with the apartment number I could at least knock on the door and maintain some semblance of normalcy, rather than fly in through his window. My eyes darted to the phone number at the bottom; I wished I could call him beforehand, but I didn't own a cell phone nor did I have money for a payphone. _Do they even make those anymore?_

I flew back down into the rain a few times, if only momentarily, so as to know which direction to head. I had grown rather skillful at using nature's cues to tell directions, but the moon was hardly the most reliable compass. All I had to go on was that aptly named North City, Trunks's new home, was about a less than an hour's flight north of West City. The thick rain and the darkness of night made my task difficult at first, but the North City skyline finally came into view on my fourth dip down after 45 minutes of flight.

Pulling my jacket over my suitcase I flew down into the first secluded area I spotted, landing in a darkened alley. It felt eerie to find myself in one of those stereotypical dark alleyways that reeked of vomit and urine and had cats hopping in and out of open trash cans. The city streets were already somewhat barren, what with the fierce shower and the hour that it was. If I owned a watch I would have some idea of the exact time, but I couldn't even afford that.

It had been a while since I had sensed anyone's ki, I even doubted that I was able to do it anymore. I pressed my back against the wall of the brick building next to me in an attempt to get out of the rain, closed my eyes, and focused. Suddenly and for the first time in what seemed ages, I was overcome with the strange sensation of seeing, hearing, and feeling the hundreds of thousands of people that were around me, going about their daily lives. After a while I was finally able to isolate a single signal that just barely stood out amongst the rest. Noticing my clothes could get no wetter than they already were, I decided to walk to where I had detected the elevated signal; the rain was starting to dissipate and it wasn't far, anyway.

Soon I found myself on the street that was scribbled onto Trunks's note, which was now soaked and for the most part illegible. Gazing up, I counted 17 rows of windows on the tall apartment building. Unsurprisingly, on the damp piece of paper was a smudged '17C'. _Of course he'd live on the top floor_. I did the best I could at wringing out my wet clothes before walking into the lobby, so as to not look like some vagabond. I succeeded at drying out my clothes somewhat, but how wrinkled they became ultimately defeated my initial purpose.

I began to shiver as soon as I entered the revolving glass doors, my damp clothes making the already cold lobby seem absolutely freezing. The lone security guard, his head resting on the front desk, sleepily gazed at me out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing as I walked into the glass elevator and pushed the topmost button that would lead me to the top floor.

The elevator dinged as it marked each floor it ascended. On the 17th floor, the doors opened to reveal a long, narrow hallway straight ahead, adorned with potted plants and fancy lamps, leading to a balcony at the end. On either side of the long hallway were four apartments, two on each side, labeled A through D. Walking toward the end, I found apartment C and closed my eyes once more, focusing to confirm that this really was where Trunks lived. Picking up his unmistakable energy signal, I knocked loudly.

After a minute without any answer, I knocked again. The wind blowing down the long hallway was sending a chill down my spine, and I rubbed my body to stop it from shivering. "Trunks!" I barely managed to shout between chattering teeth. "It's me, Goten! Open up!"

My persistence paid off as the door swung open to reveal a sweaty and disheveled Trunks, his long hair messily sticking to the side of his face, clad only in a pair of boxers which he was wearing inside-out and backwards. His unkempt state, heavy breathing, and the underwear that was obviously put on in a hurry all screamed of his being a little preoccupied at the moment. The sharp bulge in his boxers was also a pretty good giveaway.

"What are you doing here?" he asked seeming surprised and slightly nervous.

"Um... um... uh…" I stammered as it dawned on me exactly what he had been doing.

"Now's not a good time," he stated, jerking his head toward the bedroom.

"Sorry, Trunks, it's just that—"

"Why do you have a suitcase?" he interrupted, his widened eyes darting toward the tattered luggage in my hand.

"Um… Mom sorta kicked me out... technically I decided to leave," I uttered slowly, my own eyes drifting to the sharp bulge, prominent as ever.

He stayed silent a moment, as if to process the new information. A squeaky voice from the bedroom brought him out of his stupor.

"What's taking so long, Trunksie?"

Trunks turned to face the busty brunette that emerged from his bedroom, covered solely and just barely with a large, beige blanket that trailed behind her.

"Oh!" I blurted as I averted my eyes and drummed my fingers on the door frame uncomfortably.

"Ariana, this is Goten. Goten, Ariana," Trunks sighed, perhaps annoyed at this somewhat forced and somewhat inconvenient introduction.

"Hi!" Ariana squeaked as she waved, her obviously bubbly personality making her utterly oblivious to the awkwardness of the situation.

"Hi," I muttered back, fighting temptation and making a point of looking away from the surplus of skin that was left uncovered after her waving hand released the blanket. Trunks sure knew how to pick 'em.

"Nice to meet you!" she squeaked once more, not bothering to cover herself up. I cringed subconsciously, her high-pitched voice sounding to me like nails on a chalkboard.

"Why are you all wet?" she squealed innocently.

My opinion of the girl plummeted each time she opened her mouth to speak. "Uh… there's a storm outside, didn't you notice?" I answered frankly. Was their lovemaking so intense that they hadn't even noticed the sudden downpour?

Trunks sighed, the mood officially ruined. "Come in, Goten," he sighed. "Sweetie," he began, walking toward Ariana.

I closed the door behind me and stood in the large living room as I watched Trunks walk over to his companion, embrace her, and whisper something into her ear. Ariana flashed Trunks an obvious and exaggerated pout, to which Trunks only responded by planting a soft and quick kiss on the lips. The scene formed a knot in my stomach; I wondered if I thought so lowly of the girl because of the horrible first impression I got from her, or because I was jealous of her. Ariana finally turned back into the bedroom.

"Be right back," Trunks said before following her inside. So much for having ruined their mood.

I gazed around the apartment, marveling in its size. Then again, I wouldn't expect anything else from Trunks besides the most accommodating and luxurious of housing arrangements. It seemed more like a converted warehouse than an actual apartment. I eyed the kitchen beyond the plush sofas in the living room, namely the large, stainless steel refrigerator. I was sure the refrigerator, whose soft hum made the only noise in the quiet apartment, sure was there purely for show; Trunks had never cooked a day in his life, why should that have changed now that he's in this cozy bachelor pad? I walked past the island countertop in the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to confirm my suspicion; indeed, it was mostly filled with leftover takeout food and alcohol of all sorts.

Behind me I could hear the door to Trunks's room open. I turned around to find the now fully-dressed Ariana kissing the still barely-dressed Trunks, producing another knot in my stomach. She turned to me once the kiss was broken, squealed a goodbye and walked out the front door.

"That was quick," I said walking up to Trunks, who had just sat down on the lush green sofa. I couldn't help but glance at the erection that had yet to fully subside.

"We didn't do anything. I just explained to her why you were here and that she had to go," he said matter-of-factly.

"You didn't have to kick her out because of me," I remarked, doing my best to hide my appreciation and rejoicing for the fact that she was gone.

"Nah, it's okay," he sighed, standing up. "Now, take off those clothes."

"What?" I gulped, the comment catching me by surprise. My mind raced and I became slightly aroused upon thinking of the man in front of me, whose sexual desires had gone unsatisfied thanks to my interruption, and that he had just asked me to strip as I stood here ready and willing to fulfill them.

"You're soaking wet, Chibi. You're gonna catch a cold if you don't change into something dry," he groaned.

"Oh," I sighed, disappointed it was this that he was referring to. "Right."

"So what the hell did your mom do now?" he asked, walking around me and grabbing the soaked jacket I still wore off my back.

"She supposedly got a call from Videl about something that happened to Wonder Boy," I began as I took my shirt off and handed it to Trunks.

"Uh huh," Trunks nodded as he took it.

"She got really worried about him, and so she wouldn't have to worry about me she forbade me to ever leave the house again," I continued, unbuttoning my wet jeans.

"You're one of the five strongest people in the universe, and she's worried about you getting hurt?" Trunks scoffed.

"Apparently. It probably didn't help that I just stormed out this morning," I added, slipping off the soaked pants with difficulty.

"Did you tell her you came here?" he asked, grabbing the damp jeans.

"No. I don't wanna give her the satisfaction of knowing I'm not living on the streets like some bum," I laughed.

"Good," Trunks smirked.

Like Trunks, I now stood clad only in my boxers, with the exception of having mine been put on properly. I shivered slightly, the cold air forming goosebumps all over my damp skin. "You expect me to take these off right here or can I go to the bathroom to finish changing?" I joked.

"I dunno, Chibi. Do you wanna get naked in front of me? Won't be the first time I've seen you like that," he half-whispered into my ear.

The suggestive tone of Trunks's voice sent shivers running through me, luckily indistinguishable from my shivers caused by the cold. I turned away from him quickly and grabbed the suitcase, holding it in front of me so as to hide the newly-formed erection that would be so clearly visible in my half-naked state. "Um, no, I'll just change in the bathroom."

As I dried myself off, my mind ran over what had just happened and thought back to all the times Trunks had done something like this. I loved that he and I were so close that he felt comfortable kidding around with me like that. At the same time it tore me up inside that he didn't realize how much I savored every minute of it and how I wished he really meant all the things he said and did. I stared blankly at my reflection in the long mirror, an image that cut in and out between flashbacks of our childhood and the moments we had been closest, both emotionally and physically…

I was sure he didn't feel the same way…he wouldn't. Seeing him with Ariana before was proof enough of that, and that thought just killed me. I was sure this is why I didn't like her. Not to mention that I had never seen Trunks even as remotely affectionate with any girl as I had just seen him with her. A lecherous, mysoginistic, player and borderline nymphomaniac… it was a perfect description of Trunks regarding the opposite sex; but affectionate?

I washed my face to bring myself back to reality and put on some fresh underwear and some black shorts from my suitcase. It had definitely paid off to make sure my few belongings stayed dry. When I walked out of the bathroom I found the lights had been shut off in the now dark and empty living room, and the only sources of light being the glow of the streetlights coming in through the glass balcony door and a long, low beam from Trunks's dim bedroom. Walking inside I found surprisingly humble accommodations, consisting solely of a king-sized bed with night stands on either side, and an armoire in the corner.

I gazed at Trunks, still clad in his inside-out boxers, who lay face-up on the bed with arms crossed over a powerful chest that rose and fell with each heavy breath he took. In the dim yellow light coming from the closet that illuminated the dark room, I could make him out blinking twice. "Still awake?" I asked.

Trunks only groaned in response, and said nothing as I climbed into the large bed next to him. He turned away from me the moment I did, apparently angry with me. "I'm really sorry for ruining your night with Ariana," I pleaded once again.

"I told you, Chibi, don't worry about it," he sighed, sounding annoyed.

I thought over my lingering doubt and decided to get it off my chest once and for all. "You two seem kinda serious."

"I guess," he whispered.

We lay there in silence for a while, the sound of our breathing and the cold air blowing from the air conditioner vent being the only noises in the room. I knew Trunks was still awake, as his snoring was something that could be heard from miles away.

"I was gonna call you. To let you know I was coming," I finally said.

"What, to ask permission?"

"I dunno. Just to let you know… and tell you what had happened. Only I don't have a cell phone and I didn't have any money for a pay phone or anything," I remarked.

"Well, we'll just have to get you a cell phone tomorrow then, won't we?" he chuckled.

"I can't exactly afford one," I pointed out.

"I told you, Chibi, I'd take care of everything," he said, turning to face me.

I felt the frustration grow in the pit of my stomach. "You helped me with my education, you're letting me stay here for free, you're buying me meals, and now you're getting me a cell phone? You've already done too much for me," I groaned.

"If it makes you feel any better, just consider yourself officially my bitch," he laughed.

I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Sure thing," I smiled. I actually quite liked the idea.

With the weight of my exhausting day on my shoulders, I felt myself drift off to sleep quite easily, but not before sensing a spike in energy nearby. I sat up on the bed, alarmed, and looked to my right to find Trunks sound asleep and softly snoring. _That was strange_. I lay back down on my side facing Trunks, admiring his half-naked figure as I drifted off to sleep once more.

I awoke first the following morning. Except for the closet light that remained lit, the room was surprisingly dark. Trunks had put up heavy curtains over all the windows, shielding all natural light. He always did hate being woken up by the sunlight.

I walked out into the living room, blinded by the bright sunlight coming in through the large balcony door, still in shock over the size of the apartment. I supposed I would eventually get used to it. I made my way towards the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to see what I might make for breakfast, having forgotten that its contents were limited to cold pizza and beer. The pizza smelled kind of odd; not knowing how long it had been there, I simply closed the refrigerator and plopped down onto the couch in the living room, turning on the large television and flipping between the news, a weather report, and finally settling on cartoons.

After three straight episodes of watching a tiny, brown mouse get the best of a stupid, gray cat, Trunks finally emerged from his room. "Mornin'," he grunted, squinting from the light just as I had.

"Hey, sleepyhead. Have you realized you don't have any food?"

"What, pizza and beer not doin' it for you?" he laughed, making his way to the kitchen and opening the refrigerator.

"That pizza looks like it's been there for weeks," I groaned.

"That never stops me," he laughed as he shoved a slice in his mouth without even heating it up. "Anyway, get ready, we're gonna go get breakfast and then get you your new phone."

I was still wary about him getting me the phone, but food was something I could never say no to. It wasn't long before we were both ready and were walking out the door to the elevator, passing a man with a toolbox and a blue uniform.

"Afternoon," he greeted politely. We each returned the pleasantry.

The elevator took us straight to the basement, where the parking garage was. A valet ran off as soon as he spotted us and before we knew it he drove up in a blue Maserati.

"Nice ride," I gawked, settling into the red seats of the low car.

"Thanks," he beamed, speeding up the car as much as the short distances in the confines of the garage would allow him. Once outside, he sped up to 70 every chance he got in the few seconds that it took. "405 horsepower," he bragged.

We headed to the phone place first. I had picked out the simplest, least expensive phone, but Trunks insisted on my getting a fancy pocket PC phone with Internet capability, built-in video camera, and music player. Despite my protests, trying to talk him out of it was as pointless as it had always been, so I only stayed silent as they swiped Trunks's credit card.

We then walked across the street to a burger place where we each had 30 burgers, to the astonishment of the employees and onlooking customers. The entire time Trunks played with my new phone, programming numbers, configuring speed dials, and downloading and setting ringtones. You would think that I knew many people from the looks of my directory when he was done with it, although the majority of the numbers consisted of his and my family members and girls he recommended I called; all people I had little to no interest in talking to. Interestingly enough, they had problems swiping his credit card when it came time to pay. He ended up paying cash; I guess their system was down.

Stomachs temporarily full and errands taken care of, we headed back to the tall apartment building, driving up to the front where Trunks handed the keys to a short man in a black uniform. "Scratch it and I'll have your head," he smiled as he patted the valet on the shoulder.

"Yes, Mr. Briefs," he responded quickly.

We walked through the revolving glass doors into the lobby. "Afternoon, Mr. Briefs!" the older man at the front desk greeted us. Despite the business suit he wore, his age, wide smile, and graying hair projected a sort of inviting warmth. It appeared he was the administrator. "Come for your things?"

"My things?" Trunks echoed.

"Yes, I was told you would be leaving us. We're so sad to see you go," he responded.

"What the hell are you talking about?" asked a confused Trunks.

"We received a phone call notifying us to cancel your lease effective immediately."

"Why the hell would you comply with a request like that over the phone!" Trunks shouted angrily.

"Well, uh… We received the remainder of the rent in advance," the man explained sheepishly.

"Well un-cancel it immediately!" Trunks exclaimed as he slammed his fist down on the front desk, creating a large hole. It was a wonder he didn't break the desk entirely.

"Um, I'm afraid that's… well… impossible, sir. We've already rented your apartment to someone else," the man explained hesitantly, wary of Trunks's growing rage.

"What!" Trunks roared.

"Your apartment was on a very exclusive waiting list…" the man began to explain as Trunks ran to the elevator and hurriedly mashed the button that would bring the lift to take him up to the 17th floor, me following him cautiously.

When we reached his apartment – or rather, what used to be his apartment – we found the locks had been changed. _That man with the toolbox…_ Trunks angrily broke down the door, only to find all the furniture had been conspicuously removed. "What the fuck is going on!" Trunks roared. It was apparently a rhetorical question, for just as soon as I opened my mouth to answer it, he was back at the elevator, hurriedly mashing the button once more.

The ride down was another quiet one. Trunks gazed at the ceiling, silently assessing the situation and calculating his options. Between the two of us, he was always the logical one. Back downstairs he walked straight toward the old man, who looked like he feared from his life due to the scowl on Trunks's face… he truly was Vegeta's son.

"I'll pay you double," Trunks spat.

"Do what, sir?" the feeble and frightened man queried.

"I'll pay you double what the other people are paying you. With an entire year's advance,"

"But, sir—"

"Triple," Trunks cut him off.

The old man hesitated, as if considering the offer. I had no idea how much Trunks paid for rent, but from the looks of this place it must have been a lot; triple that must equal a small fortune. Trunks pulled out the shiny platinum credit card from his wallet, as if to seal the deal.

"All right then, Mr. Briefs. I'll be right back," stated the administrator, grabbing the card and going into his back office.

Trunks remained silent, still contemplating the situation, an intimidating scowl still sprawled across his face. "It'll be okay," I half-whispered, placing my hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah," he responded, appearing to finally calm down.

The old man finally came back, looking perhaps more afraid than he had minutes before. "Um, I'm sorry, Mr. Briefs… your credit card was declined."

"What?" Trunks growled, half-confused and half-infuriated. "Try it again!" he ordered.

"I did, sir…. Four times," he responded hesitantly.

Trunks angrily grabbed the card from the old man and stormed out of the building, shouting to the valet to get his car. We climbed in the blue Maserati once it had been brought from the garage and Trunks sped off at a dangerous speed.

"What now?" I asked uncertainly.

"Go to a hotel I guess," he grumbled in response, running his fingers through his long, lavender locks in thought.

But at the three hotels we tried, the result was no different: Trunks's credit card was being declined left and right, be it North City's finest five-star hotel or the cheapest and shadiest motel on the outskirts of the metropolis.

After further calculating his options and being turned away from even the most meager of accommodations, Trunks decided to drive back to Capsule Corp. and see just what was going on. Flying would have been much faster, but Trunks had nowhere to leave his fancy sports car. Not that it mattered much; the dangerous speeds that Trunks drove at in his rage cut an entire hour off the trip.

Soon the familiar domes of the complex came into view and we parked next to another two dozen sports cars in the car museum that Trunks called a garage.

"Mom!" a frustrated Trunks called out once inside. We searched throughout the complex for her but she was nowhere to be found.

"Mom!" he repeated into the kitchen.

"Lab," Vegeta grunted between mouthfuls of a large, three-foot-long sandwich. "What are you doing back?" he asked. Vegeta was being unusually social… he must be in a good mood.

It appeared Trunks thought the same; he was taken aback and it took him a moment to answer. "The lease on my apartment was cancelled, all my stuff was moved out, and my credit card doesn't work anywhere. I wanna ask Mother what the hell is going on," he explained.

Vegeta only growled in response.

"What?" asked Trunks.

"This morning your mother was babbling about Kakarott's brat moving in with you." Vegeta's scowl deepened, as if the memory of it further annoyed him.

My surprise overpowered my indignation over being called 'Kakarott's brat' like I wasn't even there while Trunks and I looked at each other in shock. "How did she even find out?"I asked softly.

"I never told my mom… you never told yours," Trunks said automatically. "You think Mother is behind this?" he asked, facing his father once more.

"Think? I know she did it. She never liked the fact that you two were dating," Vegeta responded, taking another bite of the long sandwich.

"What!" Trunks exclaimed. "Why the hell would she think that? Why would she even think I'm gay?"

"I don't care if you are. If you're with a man, at least it's with another Saiyan," Vegeta remarked. Ah, Saiyan pride shining through and through.

"We're not gay!" Trunks shouted. "And Goten is just my best friend!"

"That's not the impression I got from when I saw you two that one night," Vegeta chuckled.

My body froze, a wave of shock hitting me when I immediately realized what he was talking about. _You __**did**__ see someone that night_.

"What night?" Trunks asked as I wished something, anything would happen to keep Vegeta from continuing.

"After your graduation," he answered, taking another bite, "you two were in bed together. You were using the brat's arm as your pillow, he was kissing you and you were declaring your undying love for each other."

Trunks's expression suddenly became blank. Despite knowing him better than anyone, I couldn't fathom what he was thinking right now. I don't think I wanted to. "What?" he said meekly.

"It was kind of… erm… endearing, actually," Vegeta chuckled.

"Is that true, Chibi?" he asked, turning to face me.

Only I wasn't there anymore, having run out the glass doors of the kitchen, needing to get out of there. I flew as fast as I could, not even knowing where to go.

**To be continued. Please read and review. **


	6. Of Confrontations and Revelations

Disclaimer:  
>The usual disclaimer.. these characters are not my property, any similarities in names or events to actual people is purely coincidental.<p>

**Chapter Six: Of Confrontations and Revelations**

I woke up to the sound of birds chirping. Ah, the familiar sounds of nature I loved and knew so well. It had been so long since I could actually sit and enjoy them; unfortunately, now wasn't one of those times.

The trees in the clearing gradually came into focus, slowly replacing any recollection of the dream I was having. By the time I was fully awake, all I could remember was a giant, pink rabbit terrorizing a city. Not that it mattered; my mind was plagued with the thoughts of what had happened last night.

As soon as I'd heard Vegeta tell Trunks what he witnessed that fateful night three years ago, the only thought on my mind was to get the hell out of there. _Wow, has it really been three years?_ Three years since the night Trunks graduated, and so many more before that harboring this impossible infatuation. An infatuation he now knew about. It killed me inside to think of how he would take the news, especially hearing it from such an unlikely source as his father. I knew that I could eventually cope with rejection and lack of reciprocation, but what if he chose to end our friendship and never to speak to me again? I may as well die.

And so I had flown until the city was nothing but a distant dot in the horizon, landing in a clearing in the forest and doing my best to conceal my energy. I didn't want to be detected. I didn't want to be found, only to be told that which I dreaded to hear. It was for that reason that I didn't answer my fancy new phone, even after hearing for the seventh time the distinct ringtone Trunks had programmed for himself.

I grabbed the phone that lay on the ground, only to find no new calls had come in. Guess he finally gave up. An empty, flashing battery icon in a corner of the screen notified me the phone would die soon. The time in another corner of the screen told me it was only 7:30 am; what a relief to finally have something to tell time with besides the sun and its height in the sky. Part of me wished it was later so that it would be warmer; the coolness of the morning permeated through the damp forest, making me shiver.

It was a wonder I had slept at all, with nothing more than the t-shirt and thin boxers I wore to prevent the cold spring air from seeping into my bones; my jeans lay folded beneath my head as the result of my feeble attempt to make myself a pillow. Between the shivers, my body aching from having slept on the cold, hard ground, the loud growling of my stomach begging to be fed, long overdue for food since the banquet of burgers yesterday, and dreading what had happened and what was to come, it was shaping up to be a horrible day.

Moments like these I hated myself for being so impulsive and not thinking things through like Trunks tended to do. If I had I wouldn't be in this position: hungry, miserable, with no money, and with nowhere to go. The last one was what worried me the most. I was adamant about avoiding Trunks at all costs, meaning going Capsule Corp. was out of the question – although from the looks of things, I'm not all that welcome there anyway; I had stormed out of my own home after being fed up of my mother's threats, so going back wasn't an option. Short of finding the most demeaning job and meager accommodations, it seems I was left with very few choices. Except…

I sighed, reluctantly grabbing my phone and scrolling through the directory looking for his phone number, momentarily perplexed upon not finding it under G. _Didn't he put his number in here?_ It took me a while to realize how Trunks would have put it in, and I kept scrolling down. Lo and behold, at the end of the list were two words and a tiny emoticon that made me chuckle; they read: **Wonder Boy :O**

Hoping I had enough battery, I gulped and pushed the green, phone-shaped button that would send out the call. It rang, once, twice, three times… a young, familiar voice cut off the fourth ring. "Son residence, Pan speaking."

"Hey, Panny-chan, it's Uncle Goten," I smiled, glad to hear my niece's voice after so long. "Is your dad around?"

"Hold on, I'll go get him," she said as I heard her putting down the phone and a distant call for "Daddyyyyyyyy" filling the receiver.

I basked in the cuteness of the scene and before I knew it I heard Wonder Boy's distinct voice on the line. "Hey, little bro!" he said almost overenthusiastically. "We haven't talked in ages! How you been?"

_Hmm, how to put it?_ "Um, I've been better," I answered honestly.

"What's the matter? Is anything wrong?"

"No, everything's fine," I lied. "You're right, it _has_ been forever. We should meet up and have a bite to eat in the city or something." It'd be harder for him to deny me a favor if I asked him in person.

"Sure, that sounds great!" he responded. "When do you want to get together?"

"Well," I suggested, "how about right now?"

"Um… sure," he replied. With how distant he and I had become over the last few years, I knew he'd jump at the opportunity to reconnect. It surprised me how uncharacteristically cunning I had become.

We had just barely settled on the place when the phone began to beep and the battery eventually gave out, ending the call. Not that it was all that great a loss; I'd survived so long without a phone and the only person who would know or have reason to call me was the one person I least wanted to talk to.

Now it occurred to me that I had two new things to worry about: how to get back to the distant city without flying there, which would give my position away; and that I had no money to pay for this meal, one of the reasons I'd called my brother in the first place. Guess I wasn't so cunning after all.

I got up and got dressed. I quickly stretched, and when I felt my body loose and limber enough I began to run back toward the city, darting through the trees that dotted the forest on the way. I knew I'd barely use any of my power to do this, and by all respects it would be just as fast as if I had driven there.

Granted, I had worked up quite a sweat when I finally arrived to the city, and I had to slow down considerably once I got there, lest the man who could run at 50 miles an hour end up as the top story on the news. But I eventually got to my destination: a classic but humble diner where tiny booths lined the window and middle-aged waitresses perpetually asked if you wanted a refill from their seemingly bottomless pot of coffee. Wonder Boy was already there, sipping on a cup of coffee of his own in one of the many booths.

"Hey there, stranger," I said, sitting opposite Gohan and still breathing somewhat heavily.

"Hey," he smiled. "Are you just really excited to see me or are you always sweating profusely?"

"Ha, ha," I laughed mockingly. "As a matter of fact, I had to run all the way here."

"What, did you forget how to fly?" he quipped.

"No. I just thought I'd run for a change," I said, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

Just then, one of the many waitresses walked up to our table. "What can I get you, sweetie?" she asked, the term of endearment coming from a total stranger irking me somewhat.

"Oh, nothing for me, thanks," I responded as politely as I could.

"Not even a cup of coffee?" she insisted.

"No, thanks," I repeated.

The waitress shrugged and walked away muttering something under her breath.

"You call me to come out and have breakfast, and you're not gonna eat? Since when does a Son turn down food?" my brother asked.

"Since that Son has no money whatsoever," I sighed in response.

"Is that all?" he asked. "I can pick up the tab if you need me to," he offered.

Gohan offering to pay? My brother had never offered to pay for anything; it's not that he was cheap, he could just barely afford to even buy toilet paper to wipe his own ass with. "Thanks," I said incredulously. "You sure? You don't have to."

"I'm your older brother, Goten. It's my job to help you out whenever you need it," he recited pridefully.

"Funny you should say that, Gohan," I interjected, not being able to imagine a better segue than that. "That's kind of the reason I called you."

"Hmm?" he asked between sips of his cup.

I had already started being frank. Why stop now? "I kind of don't have any place to stay. Can I crash with you for a while?"

"Wait, you wanna stay with me?" he asked somewhat nervously. "Why don't you stay at home with Mom?"

"I can't go back there after the fight we had," I spat, the memory of the incident making me tense up.

"What fight?" he asked, a look of genuine curiosity sprawled across his face.

"What, she didn't tell you?" I asked, surprised.

"Um, Mom and I haven't spoken for a while," he began. "Since you left, actually."

"What? But just a few days ago she said she was talking to you on the phone." I thought back to the night I had stormed out. "Or rather she said she was talking to Videl, and that something had happened to you, but you were fine."

I could make out a small frown on Gohan's face, not needing to ask to know what was going through his mind. I thought of Trunks and his disregard for my mother's tangled web of lies. Now once again my mind raced trying to figure out exactly who she was on the phone with that night.

My brother called back the waitress for another cup of coffee; starving, I went ahead and ordered a rather large meal, knowing Wonder Boy would pick up the tab.

"You didn't seem surprised to see me," I remarked after a long silence.

"Of course I was, Goten! It's great to see you," he smiled.

"I didn't say you weren't happy to see me. Just not surprised… did you know I was back?" I asked.

"From school, you mean? Yeah, why?" he asked, taking another sip of coffee.

"How did you find out if you haven't talked to Mom in a year?"

"Hmm?" he grunted, the question catching him by surprise. "Oh, I could sense you as soon as you came back."

"But I wasn't powered up. You wouldn't have been able to sense me unless you were looking for me," I stated, not quite satisfied with the answer.

"Maybe I'm just really good at sensing," he shrugged.

"Even if you were, which you're not, you'd be even worse at it now that you've settled down and don't train anymore. Took me a while to get used to using my powers again after not using them for a while. So tell me the truth, how did you know?"

Before I could get my answer, the persistent waitress showed up at long last with our food. Plates full of eggs of all kinds, fried, scrambled, boiled, poached; omelets stuffed to the point that you could barely tell there was any egg in it; mountains of pancakes drenched in syrups of varying tastes and colors; bowls of rice, cereal, and oatmeal still steaming from just having been prepared; steaks that were questionably considered a breakfast item but were welcomed anyway. The veritable banquet barely fit on the table. To think that between the both of us this could barely be considered an appetizer. But I wasn't gonna complain; the meal was on Gohan and it was the first thing I had eaten in almost a day. All thoughts not food-related seemed to disappear from my head as I dug right in. I've always loved how food tastes exponentially better when you're starving.

I focused all five senses on the food in front of me, and was hugely disappointed when I found all the food was gone and I was still hungry. I coughed loudly to mask my grumbling stomach, so as to not seem ungrateful for the meal.

"So, you fought with mom and now you have nowhere to go," Gohan said to no one in particular as he scrawled his neat signature on the receipt.

"Mm-hmm," I nodded nervously, recognizing the bleak situation but not knowing what to make of the sudden seriousness in his tone.

"And you have absolutely no place to go?" he sighed.

"Yup," I said sheepishly. "So, can I stay with you for a while?"

Gohan hesitated for a bit, as if to contemplate the situation. "I guess," he sighed, his tone betraying how his previous willingness to help me had all but disappeared.

"Thanks, Gohan!" I exclaimed, trying to sound as grateful as possible. It was odd that he seemed so reluctant to take me in, as if he had something to hide. "I know there's not much room at your house, but I'll make it up to you, don't worry."

"Oh, space isn't the issue," he chuckled. "Grab your stuff and put it in the car," he said as we walked out of the diner.

"Um," I mumbled, scratching my head. "I kinda don't have anything."

"Oh," he sighed. "Well I guess you could borrow some of my old clothes in the meantime," he said as he climbed into a flashy, charcoal-gray BMW parked in front of the diner.

"Whoa! _This _is your car? Did you, like, steal it or something?" I asked incredulously as I climbed into the passenger seat, thinking back to the old piece of junk he drove whose sputtering could be heard from miles away.

"No," he chortled. "I bought it." He turned the car on with the push of a button on the dashboard, and we were off.

"How? There's no way you could afford this thing on a teacher's salary."

"Well, Videl and I came into some money recently."

"What, you're a drug dealer and you're selling your merchandise to your students?" I teased.

"No," he chuckled. "But it's not something that I'm proud of, so I'd rather not talk about it."

"Hmm… not proud of it and doesn't have to do with drugs. Judging by how safely and painfully slow you're driving this amazingly fast car, must not be anything dangerous, either. That rules out mobster," I joked watching my brother push his glasses farther up on his nose as he always did when he was nervous or self-conscious.

"Don't worry about it," he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. I decided to drop it, not wanting to push my luck when he was doing me this favor. Although I highly doubted he would ever put me out on the street like my mother was so willing to do.

After driving for a while we'd reached the upscale outskirts of the city, dotted with posh neighborhoods and exclusive country clubs. Why was he driving this way? "We stopping anywhere before we go to your place?" I asked as I hit the buttons of the radio scanning for a decent radio station.

"No, why?"

"'Cause you live that way," I said, pointing behind me. We were clearly heading in the opposite direction of where I knew Gohan's tiny but quaint apartment to be located.

"I don't live there anymore. I bought a place just outside the city… we're actually almost there," he muttered.

"Oh," I voiced thoughtfully. Expensive new car, new place outside of town… the _expensive_ part of town. Just where the hell was he getting all this money? I knew he wouldn't tell me; I was tempted to play the _I'm your brother you can tell me anything_ card but we weren't close enough for that one to work, and I'd already decided not to push the subject. At the very least, I had to know…

"Does Mom know about all this money?" I asked meekly.

Gohan hesitated, as he had all day after most of the questions I'd asked him.

"It's a simple question," I pressed.

Wonder Boy simply nodded, never taking his eyes off the road to acknowledge me in my inquiries.

"Is that why you two don't talk? Because she doesn't agree with whatever it is you're doing? Or because you're not sharing in your ill-obtained good fortune?" I continued, my voice and temper rising.

"She's our mother. Just because we don't talk doesn't mean I don't help her out if she needs it," he responded, barely above a whisper.

"What about me! I'm your brother! She sent me away and has been manipulating me ever since, all supposedly because we're poor!" I shouted, no longer having any regard for my brother or the favor he was doing me. "And this whole time, that I've been miserable and starving and working my ass off, you're going off and buying brand-new cars and fancy houses! Why couldn't you help _me_!" I screamed as I felt my blood boil and my body get hot.

The entire time, Gohan remained silent and refused to face me, always keeping his eyes on the road. I think I could barely make out a pained expression on his face, but part of me thinks that it's just my projecting onto him the remorse I wish he would feel for this whole situation.

"We're here," he finally said as he turned into a large, gated entrance where a long brick driveway led to an elaborate fountain. The driveway circled around the fountain, leading to a large two-story chateau that welcomed its patrons with 10-feet high, 2-feet wide columns on either side of the adorned oak front door, which lay under a glass mosaic of a cherub. The yellow shards that made up the bare skin, the blue ones that comprised the wings, and the red ones that embodied the hair all jovially reflected the afternoon sunlight.

"You were all for me and Trunks studying together. Then from out of nowhere you tell me to do what Mom says," I mumbled, folding my arms on my lap and hanging my head in helplessness and defeat. "Why the hell did you ever side with her?"

Gohan pulled into the garage, parking the BMW next to a small collection of cars of equal or greater value. Pushing the dashboard button once more, the engine died down and we sat in silence for a while.

"Goten," he said, finally breaking the silence, firmly placing his hand on my shoulder. "You'll probably never understand what I did or why I did it, but whether or not you're able to forgive me, I want you to know that I truly am sorry." He wrapped his free arm around me in a meek embrace; I just sat motionless, still reeling from the rage and dejection that still consumed me. With that, Gohan got out of the car and entered the house, leaving me there alone with my thoughts.

I sat there thinking about all that had transpired in the past hour. A pain in the pit of my stomach grew as I pondered how different everything could have been if Wonder Boy had been willing to help me with all the resources he'd somehow managed to acquire and was hoarding all to himself. He knew I never wanted to go; now that he could do something about it, why hadn't he? Why had he insisted that I heed my mother's wishes, anyway? His being all for me and Trunks studying together was the one thing he had ever done to redeem him in my eyes. Now I feel like I hate him more than ever before.

The car becoming increasingly uncomfortable, I decide to finally get out and look at the small collection of cars, if for no other reason than to take my mind off all these troublesome things. Wonder Boy had apparently gone out on a car shopping spree… in addition to the charcoal BMW was a blue Audi, a white Mercedes, a black Range Rover and a beige Lexus. Granted, all were expensive cars, but characteristically practical, so very much like my brother. At least, all except one.

At the end of the line of cars that filled the garage was one flashy car that was very unlike my brother and that I was sure I had seen once before. Undoubtedly the most expensive car of the bunch, and certainly the most impressive, was a red convertible Ferrari. I had seen a car just like this less than a few days ago. _What a coincidence_. I had been having lunch with Trunks, when that man bumped into me. A man that looked exactly like…

_It can't be._

I looked at the car more closely, as if to confirm what I already knew but dreadfully feared to be true. The color was dead-on, the make was identical. Not that I was a car connoisseur, but a car like this is not easily forgotten. Taking a few steps back, I catch a glimpse of the license plate, whose white frame so greatly contrasts against the rich red color of the car. Its black letters read CCOR1582. I kneeled down to look at it up close, when I heard a ringing coming from the BMW I had just come out of.

Looks like Wonder Boy had left his cell phone in the car. A rarity among cell phones, it was actually ringing. I walk over and grab the phone, making toward the house to take it to my brother, when I glimpse at the name on the screen and stop dead in my tracks. _Bulma Briefs_. Why the hell would she be calling my brother? Overcome with curiosity, I hit a button and accept the call.

"Hello?"

"Have you found him yet?" came her voice from the line, succinct and businesslike.

_She thinks I'm Gohan. _No better way to find out the reason for the call than to go along with it. "Found who?" I ask.

"Goten, you idiot. If you weren't already half-ape, I'd say a monkey could do a better job than you," she snapped.

"Oh. No, haven't found him yet," I responded slowly.

"Well, get a move on. I'm not paying you to sit on your ass and play house with your little family," she barked. "And report back this time."

With that, the call ended.

That's how Wonder Boy got all this money, from Bulma? I looked back at the license plate on the Ferrari. CCOR1582. CCOR…. C-Cor… Capsule Corp. I looked at the five other cars in the garage, only to find that each of them had a license plate that began with the letters CCOR, with different numbers at the end of each.

Suddenly I was getting answers to all the burning questions I had minutes ago. Why Gohan's sudden change of heart? He was paid off. Why couldn't he help me out? He couldn't exactly use the money on me, considering the source. My nails dug into the palm of my hand from having my fists clenched so tightly in anger. I wasn't sure who I was angrier at: Bulma for using her seemingly endless resources to turn my own brother against me, or my brother for selling me out. And what role did my manipulating mother play in all this? Was she the perpetrator, or just another pawn?

I was so angry, I could feel heat emanating from my body and the ground quaking slightly. My rage engulfed my sense of reason and before I knew it I had taken off straight through the closed garage door. I knew very well who I was angrier at, and it was straight to her that I was heading: to the one place I'd avoided at all costs by the very method I had avoided using, both as a consequence of yesterday's events. My anger overcame my fear of what Trunks could say or do. I just knew she had to pay for all her manipulation and backstabbing and for all the years she'd made me miserable in keeping me apart from the one and only person I truly love.

I don't know if it was that I wasn't far away or that I had flown faster than I thought myself capable of, but before I knew it the familiar domed complex came into view. I stopped in midair and floated a few hundred feet up, realizing that the fear that had kept me away had not entirely subsided. It's funny how we can put up the bravest of fronts until we're actually faced with the situation. I was at a loss as to what I could or even hoped to accomplish; though bitter and furious, I was a pacifist and nonconfrontational. Not to mention that this was a lifelong friend of my family's and the mother of my best friend and love of my life, wicked though she may be.

It was already getting dark and several lights of the residential complex had been turned on. I gulped and floated down to one of the lit windows of the residential area I had darted from less than a day ago. It seemed the entire place was deserted except for the dining room, from which music and loud conversation could be heard.

The entire Briefs family had gathered, apparently in celebration of something judging from the decorations. The elder scientist, family patriarch and grandfather of Trunks, lazily sat at the end of the table with his wife. It had been years since I'd seen them, and they seemed much more active and in greater spirits back then; but despite senility and old age having caught up with them, they seemed rather content, no doubt a result of the jovial mood surrounding the room. At the other end of the table was Bra, ever the permanent fixture on her father's shoulders, clinging to Vegeta lovingly, a scene I would never get used to. Next to them was Trunks, who looked as annoyed as I imagined Vegeta would have been in such a situation. In moments like these, the resemblance between them was uncanny; he truly was his father's son.

And at the center of the table sat the woman that had driven me to return here, triumphantly smirking smugly and seemingly satisfied about something. She was sitting next to none other than Ariana, whose squealing laughter resonated above all other conversation that filled the room. Her voice, which was like nails on a chalkboard to me, once again incited my rancorous feelings toward her. Bulma grabbed Ariana's tiny, left hand within her own, leaning down to inspect a large jewel she wore around her ring finger. Could that be what I think it was?

As I vaguely watched the scene before me unfold, I noticed one of the security employees walk into the room up to Bulma and whisper something in her ear. The tall guard had barely finished the thought before Bulma suddenly got up and left the room unexpectedly leaving a surprised Ariana gawking at the large gem she now donned. I certainly don't remember her wearing the ring when I first saw her. I watched as she made her way over to Trunks, lovingly wrapping her arms around him and placing a long and passionate kiss on his lips.

My chest pounded. My blood raced. If the knot in my stomach grew any tighter, I think it would snap from the tension. Why did this scene affect me so much? I'd always been jealous of the women that could love Trunks openly and be loved back by him, but never to this point. Maybe because none of those other times had seemed serious or real; and if the ring on Ariana's finger was what I thought, it certainly proved this one was.

"What are you doing here?" came a voice from the shadows behind me. I spun around quickly to find Bulma, her turquoise hair giving her away despite the shroud of darkness that covered her.

Crap. I must have tripped one of the security systems; that must have been the message the guard relayed. But it was this confrontation I had come for in the first place. My fists clenched as my anger resurfaced. "I know what you did," I spat angrily.

"Why, whatever do you mean?" she asked innocently.

"The lying, the manipulating… it stops now," I said perhaps too forcefully, as if to compensate for whatever feelings of insecurity or intimidation I may have right now.

"Goten," she smiled, walking towards me and coming into the light where I could see her clearly. "You see that?" she asked as she placed her hand on my shoulder and pointed through the window to the other woman I loathed. "That's an engagement ring."

My heart sank. So I was right. The festive mood and the smile on Bulma's face suddenly became clear. Why had Trunks proposed to her so suddenly? It seemed even odder to think that all this would occur so soon after what had happened yesterday. It must have been sudden because Trunks had made no mention of this to me before then. Had he proposed _because_ of what happened yesterday? The thoughts continued to race as I fell deeper into misery and helplessness.

"So you see," she continued, pulling her hand away, "I've already won."

"But…" I said meekly.

"What did you expect to do, anyway?" she laughed. "Come here and attack me? Kill me? You and I both know you would never do that. And if you ever laid a finger on me, you know Vegeta would come for you, and he _would _kill you without thinking twice."

I stayed silent, the anger, disappointment, helplessness and melancholy leaving me completely lost for words.

"I've worked too hard to keep you two apart," she said sternly. "Don't think I won't do whatever it takes to keep it that way," she finished, turning around and walking back towards the house.

"Bulma," I said angrily, with no real idea of what I was going to say.

She stopped, but didn't turn around. "This is my only warning. Stay the hell away from my son, you freak."

And with that, she walked into the house and closed the door behind her.

**To be continued. Please read and review. **


	7. Everyone Has a Price

Disclaimer:  
>The usual disclaimer.. these characters are not my property, any similarities in names or events to actual people is purely coincidental.<p>

Author's note:  
>This is the first chapter written in a point of view other than Goten's. Just thought I'd mention it to avoid confusion. I'll leave it up to you figure out who, so as to not spoil <em>all<em> the fun of my relay storytelling.

**Chapter Seven: Everyone Has a Price**

"That was a great party!"

Pan was quite talkative for a four-year-old; at least, she was compared to most four-year-olds I knew. She may have been chattier than most girls her age, but she certainly was as hyper as the rest of them. The small car rocked back and forth as she jumped around in the back seat, an act that may have annoyed her grandmother, but just reminded me of how much I loved her.

"Calm down," I chuckled, as I turned on the car and listened to it rattle and sputter. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Videl hunch her shoulders in the passenger seat, tense from bottling in the clear disapproval of the car's decrepit conditions and everything else it reminded her of. I knew she wouldn't say anything. At least not in front of Mom and Pan.

She normally took every chance she got to criticize me and the lifestyle she'd adopted the moment she married me. Who could blame her? She'd gone from being the daughter of one of the richest and most famous men in the world to the wife of a man who, despite working tirelessly, could never dream of providing her with even a semblance of what she once had. But I loved her with all my heart, and I knew she loved me too; why would she still be here if she didn't?

"Where's Uncle Goten?" queried Pan, speaking up over the old car's loud vibrations as she finally settled into the seat next to her grandmother.

"He's spending the night here," replied my mother, upon which I could hear my wife sighing gloomily.

In moments like these I rationalized that Videl had even more reason to feel this way. Trunks's farewell party, which we had just left, was extravagant beyond the Briefs's usual display of wealth and opulence. I wasn't at all surprised that Goten wanted to stay behind. Then again, Trunks would be leaving soon, making this the first time in their entire lives the lifelong friends would ever be apart.

After dropping my mother off and Pan having fallen asleep in the back seat, the trip home was made in absolute silence – if you don't count the car, that is. I'd been meaning for the longest time to get this heap of tin repaired, or to just buy a new car altogether, but my meager teacher's salary did not allow it.

"We're gonna have to get this car fixed soon," I muttered, glancing over at Videl who merely crossed her arms and frowned.

"I know things are hard, sweetheart," I suggested, grabbing Videl's hand in my own and kissing it softly. "But they'll get better soon."

"For your sake, I hope they do," she replied, turning around and making sure Pan was asleep before engaging in another argument. "Because I'm just about sick and tired of this sorry existence you call our life," she snapped, pulling her hand away.

I sighed as I searched for an empty spot on the curb where I could park my car without needing to fill a meter or risk having to pay a ticket. I eventually found one and pulled into it; Videl quickly got out of the car and trudged up to our small apartment while I picked up Pan, who slept soundly in the back seat. I followed Videl through the thick, glass door that was covered in graffiti and a few bullet holes, up two flights of stairs into our tiny two-bed/one-bath apartment. I always thought our apartment could have been worse; it may be cramped, but at least the lack of furniture made it look that much bigger. I hoped that I would soon get a raise at work, which at the very least would allow us to move into a bigger place with its own dining room. All our meals this past year had been eaten on a stained and faded coffee table pulled up against the hard, used futon in the closet-sized living room.

By the time I had put Pan to sleep in her own room, Videl had already slipped into a nightgown and laid down on her side of our bed. I undressed down to the tight boxers in which I usually slept and curled up next to my wife, gently rubbing her shoulders and placing soft kisses on her neck. My hands gently ran down her side, finding her breasts and tenderly caressing them, lightly tracing circles around her nipples through the thin nightdress.

"I'm not in the mood," she snapped, turning away from me as she once more denied the release of my primal urges.

It had been well over a month since we'd last made love; I'd had to resort to going to the nearest convenience store and buying a few sleazy magazines to tide over my sexual cravings, my right hand becoming my new best friend. I'd even begun throwing lecherous looks at some of my more attractive female students, fantasizing about them and the things they would likely do in exchange for a passing grade. _So, Stacy, about that extra credit…_ I got up off the bed and made toward the bathroom, grabbing one of the magazines in question along the way.

This tense atmosphere reigned in our household for the longest time. I did my best to hide it from my daughter, glad that she was starting school and would have the new distraction. School had become my own distraction, the focus on my students – female or otherwise – drawing my attention away from my problems with Videl. Eager for distractions, I'd also taken the liberty of making sure Goten never fell behind in his studies, now that he no longer had Trunks to give him the push he needed.

Videl, Pan, and I would drive to my mother's house each weekend to spend time together as the family I knew she needed and missed having, now that both dad and I were gone. During one of our visits I went straight to my brother's room and knocked on his door.

"Hey there, bro," I said, smiling overtly. "Studying hard, I see."

"I guess," Goten replied absentmindedly.

"If you ever need any help," I began, taking a seat on his bed, "feel free to ask."

"Gee, thanks," he scoffed, his unappreciative tone not going unnoticed.

We stayed silent for a while, the only noises in the room being the ticking of Goten's wall clock and the scratching noise of the pencil as he wrote what appeared to be some sort of essay in his notebook.

"How's school?" I asked, leaning back onto the bed, turning to face my brother.

"Fine," he mumbled in an annoyed tone, as if to make obvious how little he wanted me in the room.

I cleared my throat uncomfortably and sat up on the bed once more. "School's almost over," I mused. "Have you given any thought to what you're doing after—"

I was cut off by Goten throwing his pencil down and slamming his book shut. "What do you want, Wonder Boy?" asked my aggravated brother.

Ah, that nickname. It was Trunks that had first started using it, and more recently my own brother began to call me that, as well. It was aggravating to be called that by Goten, not because I found it particularly demeaning or insulting, but rather because it served as a constant reminder of how distant he and I had become over the years. I knew it was because I was so studious and I had fulfilled most of my mother's expectations, whereas he did neither and my mother scrutinized and criticized him for it constantly. I couldn't blame him for being resentful of me, just like I couldn't blame Videl for resenting our situation and my not being able to provide for her like I wish. I hated being the bad guy, all for things that were beyond my control.

"Well?" he asked impatiently, drumming his fingers on his desk.

"Nothing, Goten, I just…" I sighed. "I just wanna help you out. I'm your brother and I care about you."

"If you wanna help me then get out and let me study in peace," he spat, swiveling in his chair to face the desk once more and opening his book.

That was the first time I tried to help Goten out, and it wouldn't end up being the last. However, each attempt essentially played out the exact same way. I truly was concerned about what he would do academically once he finished high school. I shudder to think that because of a lack of education he would end up in a situation similar to mine. My concern grew exponentially as the date of his graduation drew near. I really wished he'd listen to me, but alas, I knew there was only one person he would ever listen to on the subject of his education. So it was him that I went to.

The week before Goten's party, I stayed at work a little later than usual. Once my students were all gone I took advantage of the phone in my classroom to make the call to Trunks, whose phone number I had gotten from Vegeta a few days earlier. I wasn't being cheap by using the school phone, I was being resourceful. _Whatever lets you sleep at night_.

The line rang once. _He won't pick up; with all the classes he takes, all he does is probably work and sleep. _The line rang again. _Even if he's not busy, would he pick up the strange number?_ The line rang a third time. _What are you even going to say?_

"Hello?" came a groggy voice from the other end, who had obviously just been woken up.

"Hi, Trunks. This is Gohan… were you sleeping?" I asked tentatively. To say I was out of Trunks's good graces was the understatement of the year; not that I had done anything to him, just like I had done nothing to my brother. Having just woken Trunks up surely made matters worse.

"Brilliant observation," he mumbled half-asleep. "This better be important, Wonder Boy."

"It's about Goten," I said in a serious tone.

"Did something happen to him?" Trunks exclaimed, suddenly alert. In the background I could vaguely make out things clattering to the ground.

"No, don't worry, he's fine," I added quickly, upon which I could hear a distinct sigh of relief from the purple-haired youth.

"Shit, man, don't scare me like that," snapped Trunks.

"Sorry," I chuckled, my laugh being met with an uncomfortable silence. "You really care about him, don't you?" I queried after the awkward pause.

"Yeah," he absentmindedly blurted, half-aware and happily. "I-I mean, sure… yes," he stammered. "Um, er, he's my best friend, after all." It was odd to hear Trunks lose his composure over the simple question, particularly when he was so characteristically calm and collected. I shrugged off the thought, getting back to the point.

"I'm worried about what he's gonna do once he graduates. I don't know if he has any plans for where or even if he's gonna study and he'll probably have trouble getting in many places since his grades have dropped ever since you left," I began. "I've tried helping him so many times and have tried talking to him about going to school but he always just sort of shuts me out."

"Well, you can't blame him," Trunks commented dryly. "The last person he wants to hear about school from is you, Mr. Perfect."

I sighed in frustration knowing how right Trunks was. "That's why I'm calling," I finally said. "Can you talk to him about all this? I know he'll listen to you, and it's the only way I can be sure that he doesn't end up penniless and without any prospects like… well…"

"Like you?" Trunks suggested, finishing my thought.

His comment stung, even though I knew it to be true. But if I could handle the truth, I would have finished the thought of my own accord. "So can you?" I asked, ignoring the question.

"I've already taken care of most of it. One of the reasons I picked this place is so that he and I could study together when he finally finished high school. With the small fortune my family's donated to the school, they'd be hard-pressed to refuse anything we ask them. I even made all the arrangements for us to live together and so that he wouldn't have to pay a cent for anything," he explained, surging with pride at his accomplishment. "When it's all settled I wanna surprise him with the news."

"Wow, Trunks, that's amazing! You think it'll all be set before his party? It'll be perfect if you tell him then."

"Party? What party?" he asked, a palpable confusion in his voice.

"You didn't hear?" I asked, utterly surprised. "Mom's throwing him a graduation party at their house just like the one you had and they've invited everyone. Even Piccolo's coming," I chuckled, unable to contain my delight for seeing my mentor after so many years.

"When is it?" he asked, a low growl in his voice.

"In six days at Mom's house," I explained.

"Shit. Okay, then. Thanks, Gohan, I gotta go." How weird for him to actually call me by my name. With that, the call ended.

The rest of the week dragged on rather slowly; funny how that happens when you're incredibly looking forward to something. With all the distractions, the problems at home, and working so hard, the party was just the break that I needed. But eventually the day came and I reveled in seeing all my old friends at last.

Goten and Trunks seemed really happy to see one another; I guess it had been a while since they were last together. It always fascinated me how affectionate they were with each other; most guys their age regarded their personal space as sacred, whereas Trunks and my brother usually had their arms around the other's shoulder or would occasionally ruffle one another's hair. As I watched them walk off into the forest, I couldn't help but think they looked like a young couple who was off to find a more private spot to mess around in. It was kind of cute.

Suddenly my mother and Bulma emerged from the house and walked straight towards me, my mother holding a thin folder in her hand. She held it out to me and I opened it, eyeing the series of brochures and official-looking letters contained therein. "Ruikasa College? What's this?"

"It's where Goten's going to school," Bulma replied, her arms crossed and a stern look on her face.

"Actually, I was talking to Trunks and he said he's made all the arrangements for Goten to go to his school, for free," I beamed as I shared the good news. To my surprise, my mother and Bulma seemed less than excited.

"You know, I don't see that happening. And about talking to my son… I'd appreciate it if you didn't do that anymore, especially regarding your brother," she succinctly declared, overly-businesslike. The warmth and spark I had come to know and love in Bulma seemed to have all but disappeared.

"Wait, you don't want them to study together?" I asked, confusion growing in me by the second.

"Exactly," she responded. "And I'd like your help in making sure that it stays that way."

"Why would I help you with that? I think it'd be great if they study together," I affirmed in a muddle of anger and confusion.

"A little bird told me that you've been having some trouble at home," she chuckled. "But what woman wouldn't be unhappy when she sacrifices a lavish life to live a menial existence with a mere high-school teacher who can barely put food on the table?"

I clenched my fists and my blood boiled as I shot a glance at my mother, whose head was turned in the other direction, apparently distracted by a blue hummingbird buzzing around. "You told her that?" I shouted.

"It's a shame, too. You guys make _such_ a lovely couple," sighed Bulma. "Too bad you don't have anybody to help you out." The turquoise-hair woman made her way over to me and hugged me consolingly. As she pulled away, a small, folded slip of paper made its way into my right hand. I opened it and my eyes shot wide-open as soon as I did; the check bore more zeroes than I think I'd seen at any one time.

"What makes you think I'd ever agree to betray my brother like this, for any amount of money!" I roared.

"Because, Gohan," she laughed, "everyone's got a price. It's just a matter of how much."

I crumpled up the check and threw it at her, furiously turning around and storming away.

"Oh, but Gohan," cried Bulma, "don't you think this is a decision you need to make as a couple? It _does_ affect your wife, you know." From seemingly out of nowhere, Videl appeared next to Bulma donning a stern face of her own.

"Take the money," Videl said briefly.

"But sweetie—"

"Take the money or I'm leaving you. And I'm taking Pan with me."

My eyes darted to my precocious daughter, who was running around a large tree with Bra, occasionally hovering off the ground as she showed the first signs of being able to control her ki. "You wouldn't," I gasped.

"Try me," she snapped.

I looked around for any sort of help or advice, only to find no one around me but the three women. "How can you be okay with this!" I bellowed, as my face came inches from my mother's. She stayed silent and instead only left to greet Goten and Trunks, who had only just returned from their walk deep in the forest.

I felt as if the ground beneath me was crumbling and I would plummet into a deep chasm from which there was no escape. I felt queasy and it became difficult to breathe. Was I really about to do this to my brother? Was I dastardly and despicable for selling out my own blood for my wife, who had treated me like complete garbage for this past year? Grinding my teeth, I bent down and picked up the crumpled check. I had just sold my soul, and Bulma was the devil.

I may have just given up all my morals, but I had good reason to. For the life of me, I could never figure out why my mother had agreed to go along with Bulma's machinations. I didn't care to find out, either. For all I knew or cared, the only thing that made her my mother was the blood we shared; beyond that she was a monster and I resolved to never speak to her again.

"What makes you think I can convince him? He and I barely get along," I growled at the beaming Bulma.

"You're his older brother and he respects you," smiled Bulma. "I'm sure you'll find a way."

Out of sheer convenience, Videl, Pan, and I spent the night at my mother's house that night. The three of us were upstairs in my old room when I heard shouting downstairs. I guess my mom just told Goten the news; as expected, he didn't take them too well. I slowly walked to the kitchen once the shouting had ceased and did the best I did in trying to convince him to go along with my mother, biting the inside of my cheek as I pretended to side with her, all the while feeling like I died a little inside. I highly doubt I accomplished anything, but at least I kept up with my part of the dastardly deal.

Videl changed drastically after that. That first night at my mother's house she cuddled up against me, using my chest as a pillow and lovingly wrapping her arm around me like she used to when we were younger and just married. When we arrived home the next day, we had barely walked in the door when she led me into our bedroom and locked the door behind us, literally ripping off my clothes and throwing me on the bed, engaging in acts we hadn't done since we were teenagers.

She kissed me fervently, her lips engulfing mine and our tongues wrestling one another in a passionate dance; they made their way down my neck, her breath hot against my pulsing veins; down to my chest where she traced small circles with her fingers as she took my nipples in her mouth and bit down on them sending chills throughout my body; all the way down to my manhood which was now fully aroused, which she took into her mouth and played with insistently until I reached my climax, unloading myself into her unrelenting mouth as she swallowed my warm fluids. Then without hardly allowing me any rest, she massaged my shaft until it was rock-solid once more, and I penetrated her from more angles than I ever thought possible. We made love all day and all night, and it was the best sex I'd ever had. Lucky for me, there would be plenty more where that came from.

Videl had ensured that I went along with Bulma's plan. She not only threatened me with the bad, but enticed me with the good. And in the subsequent months, she spent all of her time shopping for clothes, purses, furniture, a new house to put them in and plenty of cars to park in the expansive garage. I went along with all of it, using the knowledge that at long last she was happy as consolation for my own dastardly deeds. The fact that I would never have to do such a thing again also helped me to sleep at night.

Or so I thought.

Less than a year later my cell phone rang, an unknown number beckoning for me to pick up. My heart sank when I picked up and realized who it was. _How did she even get this number?_

"Hey there, Gohan," she said gleefully.

"What do you want, Bulma?" I growled.

"I need another favor. I need you to –"

"No way!" I screamed, cutting her off. "I'm _done_ doing your dirty work!" With that, I hung up.

I felt a little better about myself knowing I had refused her this time around; after all, I had no need to sell out to her anymore. Unfortunately for me, she didn't get to where she was by not being persistent. She kept calling several more times, none of which I answered. I thought I had finally bested her, until I was denied my usual afternoon of passionate lovemaking.

As I nuzzled Videl's neck, she pulled away for the first time since I could remember. "What's wrong, baby?" I asked.

"I talked to Bulma today. She said she's got another job for you to do."

"Yeah… but we don't need it this time," I mumbled between kisses as I wrapped my arms around my wife.

"Bullshit," she spat, prying herself out of my arms and turning around. "You act as if we have infinite funds in that bank account, but we don't. We're almost out."

"What! How is that even possible?" I asked. Even with all the spending she'd done, Bulma's first check was quite a large sum of money. Had we really gone through it that quickly?

"Do the job and take the money. Or you know what I'll do," she threatened, walking up to me. "I'll also tell Goten about what you did."

Great. This time around I had even more to lose.

"And if you don't do it, you know what you. Don't. Get." She pointed each word with a sharp poke into my bare chest.

Sadly, I had gotten used to us shagging like rabbits every chance we got and by now being deprived of it would be the equivalent of taking the stash away from a heroin addict. So I dressed, hopped in my car and sensed for Gohan and Trunks's kis, only to be led to an Italian restaurant in the city. I cursed myself when I bumped into him; the last thing I wanted was to be noticed by my brother. Hungry though I was, I focused on listening to their conversation, taking notes of the important parts. My blood boiled when I'd heard the parts about what my mother had – or rather, hadn't – done, reminding me of exactly why I had gone so long without speaking to her.

Once I heard their plans for moving in together, I knew I'd heard everything I needed to know. As I hopped into the red Ferrari parked across the street, I dialed the witch's number and told her of this most recent development, hoping once more to be done with her once and for all.

"Now give me my money and leave me the hell alone," I demanded after telling her what I'd heard.

"Not quite yet, Gohan," she said thoughtfully. "First I need to see if there's any new developments. I'll be in touch." Brief as ever, the Briefs woman ended the call.

It was about midnight when she finally got in touch with me again, with instructions to once more find my brother, report on his location and any interesting things I might hear. Since he was flying, it was easy to sense him out. I followed his energy signature to North City, where I traversed the rain to Trunks's apartment. A buxom brunette was leaving the loft just as I arrived; I did my best to stay hidden from them both, as my energy could give me away at any moment. I floated and listened to their idle conversation until they both drifted off to sleep, then I blasted off in the direction of home once more, calling Bulma and telling her they'd moved in together.

I thought maybe now I'd be done. I hoped nothing bad would come of my dastardly actions. Why was I so surprised when I ended up being wrong on both accounts?

A day later Bulma called once more with the same task: find Goten. This time around it was harder, as it appeared as if he was concealing his energy. I searched all night but I never found him. But in a strange turn of events, this time around he sought me. I hurried to meet him at the diner we had arranged, only to find he had no money and nowhere to stay. It turned out that this is why he called me, to see if he could stay with me. I panicked when he first asked, not wanting him to see what I had obtained with this ill-gotten money at his expense. But given his circumstances, I eventually reluctantly agreed to let him stay with me, a part of me thinking that by giving him shelter I'd make amends for my betrayal.

It was impossible to hide the fact that I'd gotten all this money, and he asked me multiple times just how I had managed it. The entire time I thoroughly avoided the subject. I didn't want him to find out. I don't want to think what he'd do when he did. Regardless of my guilt and my doubts, I reported back to Bulma anyway, telling her Goten was now staying with me.

I really hoped these little tasks would come to an end soon. I hated being blackmailed by both Bulma and my wife. I hated betraying my brother like this. Lucky for me, I would only ever have to perform one more task for Bulma. Only this one would turn out to be the most dastardly deed of all.

**To be continued. Please read and review. **


	8. His Reason

Disclaimer:  
>The usual disclaimer.. these characters are not my property, any similarities in names or events to actual people is purely coincidental.<p>

**Chapter Eight: His Reason**

My fingers ran idly over the wad of cash surreptitiously hidden in my pocket as if to smooth it out and make it less noticeable. I rarely walked around with my hands in my pockets, but in wanting to hide the obvious bump in my pocket that was making me self-conscious, I had good reason to. Not to mention I felt paranoid being surrounded by the many people on the crowded sidewalk. It's the one thing I hated about the city: too many people.

But the paranoia came mostly from the place I had just exited. The glass door to the pawn shop closed behind me noisily, and I was eager to leave behind the handful of shady characters selling off their presumably stolen merchandise for whatever the shop owner was willing to give them.

The conversations that took place inside served as a testament to just how bad a part of town I was in.

"Gah, why are you telling me you have crabs?" screamed a sleazy, blonde woman.

"Girl, don't act like you ain't never had crabs before," replied an equally trashy, fat, balding man in a plaid, sleeveless shirt.

The slightly comical altercation served to take my mind off the rest of the customers. One tattooed man had pawned off a golden necklace wrapped in a dirty rag; a man with a mohawk and too many piercings had dumped several rings of all colors and sizes and varying gems attached onto the counter, but to his dismay the owner could tell the majority of them were fake; another man with mussled, oily hair traded in an expensive-looking pocket watch with what looked like blood on the chain for a gun and some bullets. The last one was the one that made me the most nervous, although part of me couldn't help but think he was going to use it on himself.

Then at last came my turn. I said nothing, and nothing was asked of me; with such shady dealings going on, this appeared to be the norm and didn't surprise me at all. Reluctantly, I simply placed the phone Trunks had bought me on the counter, and took whatever the man would give me. I had nowhere to go and needed some money; the phone was the only thing I had of any value. Besides, there's no one I would need to call and there was nobody to call me. Especially not him.

I dodged the pedestrians on the dark street; night had finally fallen and it would be completely dark if not for the streetlights and the eerie illumination from all the buildings. I listened to a police siren in the distance, its wails barely drowning out the beeps, and rings from the nearby empty arcade. In such a shady part of town, it didn't surprise me that it was deserted now that it was this dark.

I contemplated walking in and playing a few games. What I wouldn't give to just be a little kid again, with no worry in the world other than getting home on time lest my parents be angry. But I had to save what little money I have. I needed to eat and unless I spent yet another night sleeping in the distant forest or in some dark alley, I would also need a place to stay. But there was one little diversion that I was more than willing to spend my money on.

In my aimless wandering I came across an out-of-the-way bar. Looking at my reflection in the glass window, I hastily ran my fingers through my hair, trying to make myself seem less like a scruffy teenager and more like a sophisticated adult that was out for a drink. I didn't accomplish much; my unruly hair was always impossible to keep under control, and the jeans and t-shirt I wore just made me look even more underage than I already was. I shrugged and walked in, acting as natural as I possibly could and sitting in a stool in the darkest part of the long bar, waving my hand nonchalantly to call the bartender over.

"What'll it be?" he asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Scotch on the rocks," I answered briefly, pulling out the large wad of cash from my pocket as if to assuage any doubts he may have as to whether or not he could serve me, and to assure him there would be a nice tip for him if he didn't ask any questions. If there was one thing I learned from Trunks and his family, it's that money talks.

"Right away," he smiled, clearly getting the message as he poured the clear liquid into a small glass.

I marveled at how much the cool drink looked like an ordinary glass of water. I stared at it, watching as the drops condensed on the outside of the glass, slowly running down its side and forming a clear liquid ring around it. I picked it up and drank it in a few gulps, wincing as the strong liquid burned my throat as it went down. "Another," I rasped as I slammed the glass down onto the bar.

I struggled to push the events from earlier that night out of my mind. I could never have imagined the web of lies I was tangled in ran so deep. I'd clearly been on Bulma's bad side for a few years already, and it was obvious my mother didn't want Trunks and I to be together, but Gohan, too? I know Wonder Boy and I aren't all that close, but I would never sell him out like that. He's still my brother, loathing and resentment aside. And why was everybody going through all this trouble to keep us apart, as if there was anything there beyond the strong friendship we'd always had?

I hastily gulped down another drink, and hoarsely slurred as I called to the bartender for another. The thoughts ran around in circles in my mind, and my sorrows increased exponentially as the alcohol had the opposite effect on my mood than intended. Here I was trying to drown my sorrows away, and all I was accomplishing was to focus on them even more.

"You should take it easy," came a voice from behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder. I began to clumsily turn around to see who it was, but the young man sat in the stool next to me before I had a chance.

Between the darkness and having trouble focusing my eyesight, I could barely make out the features of the young man next to me. All I could see was blue-black hair that spiked up in the back, with long bangs that casually covered either side of his face. The slender and good-looking youth didn't look a day over 17, meaning he had less business being in that bar than I did.

"Sure thing, kid," I slurred, despite knowing I wasn't much older than he was.

The bartender had come back with my next glass, which I began sipping slowly. I was already past the zone where the alcohol made me jovial and carefree; if I didn't heed the kid's advice, I'd be throwing up soon.

"Buy me one?" asked the teen innocently but boldly.

I guess this was why he'd sat next to me, so I'd buy him alcohol. Granted, I was in the same position as him age-wise, but the steady round of drinks I was getting proved otherwise. Lucky for him, I'm quite generous when I'm drunk. I snapped my fingers to call the bartender, and pointed at the kid. The bartender only nodded and smiled.

"What's your name?" he queried, leaning closer to me. I probably would have minded if I was sober enough to have any regard for personal space.

"Mm? Goten," I answered sleepily.

"That's a nice name," he smiled, sipping on the drink he was just given. "I've never seen you around here," he continued, taking yet another sip.

"Never been here," I slowly replied, finishing off yet another drink. How many was I on already? Four? Five? I'd lost track.

"I'd remember a face like yours," he chuckled, leaning in farther until his lips were mere inches from my face. "You're very handsome," he whispered.

"Thanks," I hiccupped, my eyes succumbing to the force of gravity.

"So, Goten," he began, still whispering. "You wanna go somewhere a little more… private?"

I felt a small, strong hand on my knee, stealthily working its way up my thigh and dangerously close to my groin. As if a switch had just turned on, my eyes shot wide open as I realized the boy was looking for something more than just someone to buy him alcohol.

"Get the hell away from me!" I yelled, pushing the boy away a little harder than I'd hoped, being in no condition to control my own strength. I watched as the whole row of stools along the long bar toppled beneath his weight and the closed entry door tremble when the boy crashed into it. Out of the corner of my eye I made out a group of people standing up from a nearby booth, some heading toward me and a few rushing to the now unconscious youth's aid.

My head pounded as an onslaught of threats was thrown my way, although I could only make out the profanities and the sound of bottles being broken, their jagged shards being dangerously pointed in my face. I threw a punch at the largest of the group, who tumbled backward overcome by the shock that someone so much shorter than him could make him fall so easily. A few of those who held broken bottles lunged toward me; underestimating how drunk I was, I tried to dodge them in vain, instead falling to the ground and being cut by every single one. Looking down at the many rips on my shirt, I felt a harsh sting on the side of my cheek and saw a pool of my blood collecting on the dirty floor.

The mob took full advantage of my having fallen to unleash a barrage of blows on different parts of my body, to the point where I was completely numb. If there had been only two or three I could have taken them, but it didn't matter how powerful I was when they counted on safety in numbers, especially when I was already drunk. Who knows, perhaps I could have fought back if I tried, but I had little to no desire to resist, a part of me thinking I deserved this. The masochist in me derived some sort of pleasure in having my physical pain match my emotional one.

The punches only stopped landing when blue and red lights filled the dim bar and two police officers came in. I remained on the floor while I watched everyone take turns telling their versions of the story to the two men who would have seemed utterly ordinary and hardly intimidating if not for the guns on their belts, and simply looked like two blue blurs to me. Eventually the blobs headed in my direction.

"You okay?" one of them asked. I just groaned apathetically in response.

"Care to tell us what happened here?" the other asked.

I sat up and blinked a few times, as if to attempt to regain my composure. "A good old fashioned bar fight," I slurred. "What, are you blind?"

In the dark light, I think I could make out the scowl on the cop's face. "Did you buy this boy a drink?"

"Yeah," I blurted. "Wanted to help the kid out. Funny he should have asked me 'cause I'm not old enough, either." _Shut up, just stop talking_, my conscience begged.

They asked for my ID and I gladly gave it to them, it not having dawned on the drunken me yet that what I had done was wrong and I was stupid for admitting to it.

"You're gonna have to come with us," said the first cop rather officially.

"Fuck you, I'm not going anywhere," I drunkenly spat, snatching my ID and heading for the door.

The second officer grabbed my arm and began pulling it behind me, cold handcuffs grazing my wrists. I instinctively wheeled around, kicking the man a little harder than I would have liked and sending him flying over the bar and into a collection of bottles on the shelves; it was hard to tell whether the noise of shattering glass came from the bottles falling, or the cop hitting them. Just as quickly, the first cop drew his gun and pointed it directly at my temple, the cold metal making me shiver slightly.

"Hands above your head!" he shouted.

"Yes, ossifer," I hiccupped, obeying the order.

I may have been stronger than your average man, but I wasn't invincible, particularly to a bullet straight through my head. In my subdued and lethargic state, the cops were finally able to place handcuffs on me and throw me in the blue car parked outside, its flashing lights giving me a bit of a headache.

In the back of the police car I drifted off to sleep, thinking back to the fight and wondering why I had gotten so angry over being hit on by a guy. Anybody else would probably have felt honored. And wasn't I being a hypocrite for getting angry at the kid for what he did and felt when I feel the exact way toward Trunks? By this point questions like these were far too much for my brain to process.

When my mug shot was taken, I smiled stupidly, the alcohol not having quite worn off yet. Having smiled had less to do with wanting to look good – something I knew was a physical impossibility considering the circumstance – and more from remembering the countless embarrassing celebrity mug shots I'd seen where they look utterly ridiculous. I wonder if mine looked anything like the ones I'd laughed at so often.

By the time I'd reached my tiny cell the alcohol had finally started to wear off. Some food would have done me good; I knew that come tomorrow my head would feel like it had split in two. My head was already hurting a little, if nothing else from the jeers and commotion from all the adjacent cells. A hunched man with an overgrown beard sang incoherently between sips from a hip flask; some scantily-clad women, presumably prostitutes, proclaimed their innocence while a man in an expensive suit screamed over and over that he was just asking for directions.

I lay on the hard cot and began to contemplate what I would do next. No one would know I'd been arrested, and I had nobody to call. How long was I being held for, anyway? All I was guilty of was underage drinking… and supplying alcohol to a minor... and subsequently assaulting said minor... and starting a bar fight... and assaulting a police officer. Come to think of it, maybe I had done quite a bit, but it's not like those things merited a life sentence. I felt my eyes growing heavy as the alcohol exhaustion set in.

…

I was flying.

Cold air rushed past my cheeks, a blissful sensation I never got tired of. I hovered through the clouds, their moisture leaving me renewed, refreshed. I gazed down at the ground, my speed and its distance making it rush by at unimaginable speeds. The average man could only dream of doing this. If only everyone could feel this sensation.

Laughter.

Such a lovely sound. It came from me as if I had heard the funniest joke in the world, but did not remember it; as if the cruel part in me was reveling over watching a friend take a nasty, uncoordinated fall, all in good fun. It was this heavenly feeling… It must have been. Laughter came from behind me; but who could it have been? Looking back, I only see a small dot in the distance.

_I know._

I'm not blissful because I'm flying. I'm not laughing because of something funny. I'm just happy. And as I stop in midair and turn around, to take a look at the reason why. I watch as the dot grows bigger; as subtle features become more pronounced with the closing distance. The first thing I make out is the hair. Oh, that hair.

Still laughing, he comes ever closer, unmindful of my having stopped. I even think he sped up, and before I knew it he met me in midair, grabbing me in a tight embrace, taking me down. We spun around and around, the joyous sensation never fading.

Can't it be like this forever?

That's the question I ask as he takes my hand in his and our fingers intertwine; as the long purple locks flow over my face giving me a chance to take in the lovely lilac scent; as his leg wraps around mine in a loving and slightly erotic gesture.

The ground grows ever closer, neither of us making an effort to slow our rapid descent. I'm too entranced by the azure eyes and the soft lips that slowly curl as he pronounces that word I love to hear.

_Chibi_.

With his free hand he runs his fingers through my black spikes, pulling me closer until the soft, pink lips are mere inches from my own. I feel his hot breath, stimulating me, electrifying me. Finally the strong hand tilts my head one way. As I close my eyes I see his beautiful face leaning the other way…

And then a clang.

I opened my eyes once more to find Trunks was nothing but a memory, or rather, a fantasy. The open, blue skies had been replaced with a damp, gray cell. It was torture to be surrounded by this cruel reality once more. My head ached slightly, but not as much as I would have thought; it may have just been masked from the pain coming from the rest of my bruised, swollen body. I quickly noticed one particular swollen body part; I wondered if I had been turned on by the dream, or if it was your typical morning wood.

Another clang brought me out of my train of thought. A guard stood at the cell door, staring at me menacingly. I just stared at him blankly, wondering if he wanted something in particular but never becoming compelled to actually ask.

"You made bail," he grunted.

If at all possible, my face became even blanker, with a hint of confusion mixed in. "I think you've made a mistake," I declared, not quite knowing why I didn't just use the opportunity to bust out of here. Not that it mattered anyway, I could easily blast through the wall or the bars of my cell, but the prospect of becoming a fugitive didn't particularly appeal to me. Oh, how far I'd come.

"Look, you wanna get out of here or not, you mangy little shit?"

It's as if he read my mind. Then again, it was a logical question to ask. I slowly got up from my cot and followed him out of the holding area, walking past the colorful cast of characters once more, most of whom were sleeping as soundly as their unfortunate situation would allow.

Who would come and bail me out? Maybe Wonder Boy had come to my rescue in some desperate attempt to redeem himself. But even if it was, how had he found out I was here? I never called anybody. _You're allowed one phone call, right? _I'd never gotten a lawyer, either. As I find out my answer, I can't decide if I'm ecstatic or crushed.

He was the last person I had expected to see helping me out since the little revelation, yet here he was hugging me tightly. This definitely wasn't the action of a man who never wanted to speak to me again, although maybe he was just happy that I was all right considering the circumstances of our reunion.

"How'd you know I was here?" I asked.

"Nice to see you too, you ingrate," Trunks retorted.

"Oh. Thanks for bailing me out," I sighed sheepishly.

"Is he free to go, officer?" asked Trunks to one of the many cops at the station.

"Yes, Mr. Briefs," he responded authoritatively.

"Oh, and that thing we talked about," Trunks half-whispered as he pulled an envelope from his back pocket of the ripped jeans he wore.

"Yes, Mr. Briefs, of course," replied the officer. As I followed Trunks outside, I caught a subtle wink from the cop.

A lightning bolt lit the dark sky, the sheet of pouring water making it look even more menacing. The moment we walked out the door both of us quickly became drenched. "Where's your car?" I shouted over the thunder.

"I flew," he yelled back, a surreptitious smile on his face. "Come on," he said as he pulled his dripping hair into a ponytail and ran down the street, hopefully to shelter. Not that it would have mattered whether we walked, ran, or flown; by this point we couldn't have gotten any wetter. I quickly followed, listening to the sloshing of my soaked shoes between the rolling thunders.

We ran past dozens of places, all of them closed at this late hour, until finally coming to a small diner. Probably due to the weather, it was deserted save for an older man who savored the downtime by snoozing next to the register.

I'd worked so hard to avoid him this whole time, yet here we were face-to-face, staring at one another in silence. I could only guess what was going through his mind. I couldn't help but notice how the soaked light blue t-shirt he wore had become practically transparent and clung tightly each bulge and ripple of his strong frame; it was normally a sight to make my thoughts run wild, but I managed to put aside my horny and overactive imagination long enough to assuage my curiosities.

"What was that all about? Why'd you give that cop that envelope? And how did you even find me?" I interrogated.

"Fancy you asking all the questions," he chuckled as he undid his ponytail and attempted in vain to dry himself off with some napkins. "If I recall correctly, it was you who disappeared for three days." he indignantly claimed. "Tell you what. I'll answer your questions if you answer mine," he challenged.

"Fine," I declared, crossing my arms and sitting in an empty booth.

"Okay," he chuckled, taking the seat across from me. "Well, the first 10 or so times I called you wouldn't pick up, the next 50 the phone wouldn't even ring. I got worried since you have no money and no place to go, so I filed a missing persons report so the police would notify me if they'd seen or heard from you."

"Missing persons report? That's a bit much," I exclaimed.

"Apparently not, considering that you'd be rotting in a cell right now if I hadn't," he rebutted.

"I coulda broken out," I frowned.

"I guess," he laughed. "The envelope was full of cash; a bribe for wiping your record clean. Trust me, you don't want that on your file, especially when it was something as stupid as a drunken bar fight."

"Thanks," I blushed. "But you gotta keep in mind, you corrupted me when you gave me my first drink, so it's partly your fault," I joked.

"Okay, so this is just me making amends, then," he laughed.

Trunks had come to my rescue, and here we were talking like old times, as if nothing had ever gone wrong. Maybe things wouldn't change so much after all. I felt the knot in my stomach loosen slightly.

"Now, my turn. Where's your phone?"

"Er, I um… sold it?"

"What?" he shouted. The man at the register stirred but never actually awoke; the constant thunder outside had apparently gotten him used to loud noises.

"I needed money and that's all I had that was worth anything," I explained guiltily.

"Fine," Trunks growled. "So where have you been all this time?"

"A little bit of everywhere. I actually called Wonder Boy up but we had a fight, so I left," I responded. My fist clenched upon thinking of what I had learned about my brother recently. "Spent a night in jail, but you already know about that one," I chuckled.

"Okay, then. One last question."

"What?" I asked.

"Is it true?"

The knot in my stomach became tight once again. It never ceased to amaze me how stupid I could be sometimes; that when he had his own questions that needed asking, that was bound to be one of them. I suppose it was unavoidable, but I may as well try to put it off as long as I could.

"Is what true?" I asked innocently.

"Don't play dumb, Chibi. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

I only scrunched my face up in a feeble attempt to act confused and oblivious.

Trunks sighed. "What my dad said about you, Goten." Trunks rarely called me by my actual name, which served as some indication of how serious this was. Not that I wasn't taking it lightly, I just wished to avoid it at all costs. "I need to know if it's true," he pleaded, reaching across the booth and placing his hand on mine.

The simple yet sudden contact sent a chill through me, the warmth of his hand feeling so intimate and familiar against my cold, wet skin. I wanted to sit like that forever, but I knew I couldn't. Sighing inwardly, I pulled my hand away.

"Of course not," I laughed nervously. "Your dad's nuts."

"Oh," Trunks muttered, suddenly looking down and fiddling with the salt and pepper shakers. We sat in silence for a while, the owner's snoring and distant thunder filling the room. "'Cause it's okay if you do, you know. It won't change anything between us," he grumbled.

"Even if I did, what would it matter, anyway? You're with Ariana," I scoffed.

"What does she have to do with anything?"

"Well you _are_ getting married," I spat, perhaps a bit more scornfully than I'd hoped. Just thinking about that girl made me angry.

"How did you know about that?" Trunks asked, surprised.

"What, was that classified information? First you go off and get engaged without talking to me about it, now you don't even want me to know. I don't need to have feelings for you for things to change. You're not exactly treating me like your best friend; hell, you're barely treating me like a friend at all!" I roared.

"I don't wanna marry her!" he shouted back. "I don't even love her!"

"Then why are you, you sick fuck? Just getting off on toying with people's hearts as usual?" I bellowed. _Just like he's toying with yours_.

"I thought you didn't have feelings for me, so why do you even care?" he yelled.

My blood boiled; I wasn't sure if I was angrier at him for being so selfish or myself for being such a coward. I just knew that I had to get out of there before I said something I regretted.

"Where are you going?" he called after me as I got up and stormed towards the door.

"What do you care?" I shouted back without stopping or turning around.

Just as I went through the doors back into the pouring rain, I could hear the sloshing of his wet shoes as he chased after me. "Chibi! You have to take care of those bruises! At least wait until it stops raining!" I ignored his pleas and just kept walking, despite my better judgment telling me I should listen and having noticed that the storm had actually gotten worse.

"Goten!" I heard him shout behind me as he grabbed my arm to hold me back. With that my rage reached its breaking point; I finally turned around and punched Trunks square in the jaw. Whether it was because he wasn't expecting it or because it was a particularly strong blow, Trunks had topped backwards onto the wet sidewalk.

"What the hell do you want? Why can't you just leave me alone! You're not my mother, you know! Why do you feel like you need to keep coming to my rescue? Just why the hell do you care so much!" I screamed, the tears flowing freely from my eyes, utterly indistinguishable from the torrent of raindrops falling on us.

"Because, Chibi…" he began, pushing himself up off the ground.

With both hands he brushed his damp, lavender hair back, exposing the tan face I'd come to know and love which slowly came closer until it was mere inches from my own. Before I knew it his hand had made its way to the back of my head, its fingers massaging my scalp and playing with my own unruly black hair. I felt his ardent breath on my lips, seemingly heating every inch of my body that was so cold from the rain and the wind. I stared at his unblinking azure eyes as the gap between us grew smaller and his strong leg found its way between my own; the only thing that separated us now were the drenched clothes we wore.

My heart raced as I contemplated the situation I was in. Could this be really happening? Is this just another wonderful dream that I'll awaken from without him by my side?

The hand that affectionately tickled my scalp drew me forward, and his soft lips met mine. Electricity surged through me as the warm lips pressed up against my own, his teeth grazing my bottom lip for the occasional nibble. With the first bite I let out an audible moan, and Trunks's tongue seized the opportunity to invade my parted lips. His tongue explored my mouth relentlessly, leaving no part untouched; our tongues circled one another in a battle for dominance I was sure to lose. The moment his hand left the back of my head and moved slowly down my back, teasing, tickling, tracing circles around my tail scar and finally seizing my ass, I had lost the battle.

I was utterly powerless in his strong hands, the pent-up feeling of ecstasy so overwhelming that I felt weightless. My stiff groin was threatening to burst out of my tight, wet jeans, something Trunks easily picked up on judging by the slow, steady movement of his leg between my own, massaging my engorged dick. My back arched upon feeling the immense pleasure; right then I wanted nothing more than to fall to the ground and surrender myself to him right then and there.

Trunks abruptly broke the kiss and pulled away from me, eliciting a groan of disappointment from me. Our chests rose and fell quickly from our heaving breaths.

"…because I love you too." That time my heart definitely skipped several beats.

**To be continued. Please read and review.**


	9. Sensual, Simple, and Sinful, Pt 1

Disclaimer:  
>The usual disclaimer.. these characters are not my property, any similarities in names or events to actual people is purely coincidental.<p>

Author's Note (unedited from original publishing):  
>I decided to split this chapter into two parts, mainly because both parts stand well enough on themselves and I could think of no real coherent transition between them. My intention was to publish both parts of the chapter together, but as you could probably tell from my month-and-a-half-long hiatus, I've been busy. It's mostly had to do with moving and all of the "wrapping things up" that come along with it, and starting school once more. The second part of this chapter is being written slowly, but surely, and is almost finished. Hopefully it will be coming to you soon.<p>

If my intention was to publish both parts at the same time, why did I publish this one alone? Mainly because I've been away for so long and feel like I owe my readers, plus another one of my favorite Trutents, To Understand Love (*cough* shameless plug *cough*) has updated today. And well, I just couldn't stand be one-upped, now could I?

So here it is, what you've all been waiting for (in more ways than one), Chapter 9 (or at least part of it)!

**Chapter Nine, Part I: Sensual, Simple, and Sinful: The Oxymoronic, Alliterative Trifecta of Life's Pleasures**

Hours had already gone by, and the rain and thunder had yet to stop. As the clothes clung to my shivering, frigid body, I wondered if it ever would. Somewhere in the back of my mind I could hear the rolling thunder and pouring rain mixed in with the sloshing shoes and the splashing water as we ran toward shelter. Were it any other time I'd probably be wondering why we were running as opposed to flying, but any thought or sound that surrounded me were the least of my worries. At least not after that. I had no idea where he was leading me, the two of us running hand-in-hand as we headed to destinations unknown with me following him like a lost puppy as I always had; he'd always been the leader. I savored his energy radiating through my body.

Before I knew it we found ourselves inside the run-down lobby of a cheap hotel, one not quite up to Trunks's usual exquisite standards but still better than the disgusting motels where shady drug deals typically take place. Much to my chagrin, the lobby had air conditioning; my body shook uncontrollably as the cold air seeped into my frigid body down to my bones. I looked to Trunks who I only half-expected to be just as or worse than me; instead he stood completely still, exhibiting the trademark stoicism one can only inherit from Vegeta as he coolly handed the man behind the bulletproof glass pane his card, which glinted in his hand.

A wave of relief flowed through me as Trunks finally took me outside; it was by no means warm, but it was definitely less cold. It certainly helped to have his arms wrapped around me, quickly rubbing up against me producing some slight heat. I wouldn't put the gesture past him under normal circumstances; we were close enough for it to not only be okay, but commonplace. I'd always just savored the contact, but now it meant so much more. In the back of my mind I wondered if he always had, as well, and if this was why it was so common. A simple little word fluttered around in my head that filled me with curiosity and wonder: "too."

"How you doin'?" he said into my ear, a little above a whisper.

I simply nodded, still shivering violently. I chuckled on the inside, thinking how ridiculous an answer "yes" would be to that question. I knew he understood, though.

I followed Trunks to the room we'd just rented, located on the second of only two floors overlooking an unkempt parking lot where weeds peeked up from out of the cracked gravel, which now seemed more like a sea of mud. It certainly was a good thing we could fly, but in keeping a low profile we'd both just discreetly hovered. Trunks gave away how cold he really was when he fumbled with the key to the room, shivering enough to never be able to hold it as steady as he needed for it to go in the keyhole and even dropping It twice in the process.

But finally we were in. The room was dark, but the enough illumination from the streetlights filtered in through the open door and the cracks of the curtains to tell where everything was. Trunks headed off to the bathroom, presumably to get some towels and finally dry ourselves off. I quickly found the large air conditioner next to the door and turned the heat up as far as it would go. The ancient machine, which was as big as a small sofa clattered as it shook and groaned loudly; I turned it back off, for fear it would break and for the sake of my own ears.

Still shivering, I sighed at our terrible luck for being so cold and having no heater. I turned on the light and closed and locked the still-open door, through which I noticed the storm was at last dissipating. "You couldn't have sprung for a better hotel?" I yelled toward the bathroom. "We don't have…" I began, but trailed off as I turned around and looked at the room for the first time, noticing the center and the single bed that lay there.

"Don't have what?" Trunks asked when he emerged from the bathroom, shirt already removed. A towel was draped over his head, from which a few damp, violet locks poked out; his hair was always darker when it got wet. He threw another large, white towel over my shoulder as he continued drying himself off with his own. "Take those wet clothes off, you're gonna get sick."

Something told me that wasn't the real, or at least the only, reason he wanted me out of these wet clothes, especially with what had happened earlier and the single bed in the room. But whatever was going through his mind, he was right. Throwing my own towel on the bed, I took off my soaked shirt and headed toward the bathroom, wringing out the dank top in the sink. Watching the veritable puddle of rainwater that formed in the sink, it was no wonder I'd been so cold. Trunks's own damp, now-wrinkled shirt hung over the shower curtain rod.

I could hear Trunks walk into the bathroom behind me as I hung my own wrinkled shirt on the shower curtain rod. I heard a sloshing thud in the tub, and looked down to find Trunks had tossed his soaked jeans there. Funny how for each time he went into the other room he was wearing fewer clothes. I turned my head to look at his reflection in the mirror and confirmed he was down to his boxers by now. I wondered what he would, or rather wouldn't, be wearing the next time we switched rooms.

"So what don't we have?" Trunks queried again, never having gotten his answer.

"Uh, a heater," I gulped, contemplating the situation I was in.

"Oh," he chuckled slyly, wrapping an arm around my bare torso. "That's no problem, Chibi. We can make our own heat."

My heart began heating quickly. We certainly could, and it looked like we'd already started. I felt a tickling sensation as Trunks ran his fingers through every crease of my abdomen. I could feel his hot breath on my neck as he kissed it, a wet tongue occasionally flitting over the vein that ran down it. I could feel a low moan escaping my mouth, only one of my body's many betrayals of the pleasure I was feeling, the others being my seeming inability to keep my eyes open as my head leaned back onto his shoulder and the growing tightness in my pants. Trunks wrapped his other arm over my chest, tracing slow, deliberate circles around one of my nipples, still solid from the quickly-disappearing cold.

Trunks turned me so we were both facing the mirror. "Open your eyes," he whispered. "I want you to watch."

Trunks continued all his skilled movements unceasingly. My own breath became heavy as he began squeezing the nipple he had been so intently circling. His kisses found their way up my jaw and up to my earlobe, which he nibbled on. I struggled to keep my eyes open; it was as if they alone were subjected to an increased gravity. Feeling all this was erotic enough, watching it as well was driving me wild.

His hands found their way down to my own jeans, which I'd never removed. He carefully unfastened the button and undid the zipper all too slowly, the unhurried motions making me anxious. Trunks bent down behind me, pulling the jeans off my pants at a crawling pace. My heart beat even faster as the anticipation mounted, but the jeans barely inched down as if not wanting to come off. Almost wanting to scream, I made to take the jeans off myself, only to have my hands grabbed by Trunks.

"Uh uh," he said. "Good things come to those who wait."

I growled in frustration. I'd been waiting so long for this, and part of me wanted it to just happen already. Yet a whisper in the back of my mind pointed out how this was all happening so fast. Too fast, even. My wits and my sense of want duked it out as electricity surged through my body and my frustration mounted. With each lascivious movement the voice in the back of my head became more and more quiet, and became altogether silent when my wet jeans finally slipped off my legs.

Trunks got back on his feet and wrapped his arms around me once more. With one less layer of clothes between us, I could feel Trunks's bulge up against my ass. It was a detail it seems he picked up on quick as he began rocking from side to side behind me, his dick rubbing up against me, our boxers providing the friction that gave him the pleasure that produced the slight moan I heard up against my ear.

"What do you want?" Trunks whispered huskily into my ear, his azure eyes meeting my own dark ones in the mirror.

"I…" I began, the doubts in my mind resurfacing after being given the opportunity. As if sensing my weakness, Trunks began tracing the small circles on my broad chest once more.

"We both know the answer, Chibi," he murmured into my ear, placing soft kisses on my temple. "I just wanna hear you say it."

"I wa… I…"

"Say it," he commanded.

"I want…"

"Say it!" he screamed, grabbing my shoulders and wheeling me around, pinning me up against the wall.

"You! I want you!"

I could feel and hear my heart beat in my head. Now facing me, Trunks's long, lavender locks fell over his beautiful face, gracefully covering the sly half-smile that adorned it after my answer.

We stood in silence for a minute, perhaps longer; my heart began beating faster, anxious from the anticlimax and the continually rising doubts. Had he been toying with me this whole time? Was this all some sort of cruel joke he was playing on me, like all the times he'd done over the years? I was still held up against the bathroom wall; Trunks's smile never wavered, and I can only imagine my face grew more and more worried.

"Trunks?" I asked hesitantly.

"Mm hmm?" he replied melodically.

"Um," I began slowly, carefully choosing the right words so as to not sound needy or desperate. "What about you?"

Trunks chuckled, his hand leaving my shoulder and grabbing my throbbing dick through the cloth of my underwear. "I can tell you're really enjoying this," he laughed.

"Ye-" I started to say, but was cut off as Trunks's warm lips met my own at last.

Clearly we'd moved past soft, affectionate kisses and moved right onto deep, passionate, and ravenous ones. No sooner had his lips touched mine did I feel his tongue slip between my own, exploring the depths of my mouth. He took his other hand from my shoulder and grabbed my chin, guiding my head with it so as to help with his exploration. I felt his tongue slip back out and his teeth bite into my lower lip. Gentle nibbles made their way along my jawline and down to my neck, which he sucked on as his hot breath grazed my ear. All the while his hand remained on my solid member, each gentle stroke making me shudder and moan in pleasure.

"Me too," he smirked.

If the last kiss we'd shared was amazing, then this one was outright phenomenal. All we'd done over the past few minutes, added to the anticipation and desire of wanting to meld my lips with his own made it a kiss like no other I'd had; it's true what they say: food always tastes better when you're starved.

Trunks grabbed my legs and wrapped them around his hips, then grabbed my arms and placed them on his shoulders as he carried me out of the bathroom, never ending his ravenous kisses on my neck. He knelt on the bed, placing me down on it lying face-up. His kisses made their way farther and farther south: down my neck, across my chest, pausing momentarily to lick my hardened nipples, down to my abdomen and finally reaching the elastic of my boxers' waistband. His hands sensually rubbed my thighs, close enough to my groin to keep me on the brink of ultimate pleasure but never taking me quite to the top.

I felt hornier than I'd ever thought possible and the waiting was killing me. The fact that I was so close to the release I needed but was taking his sweet time to grant it to me was driving me insane. I desperately clutched the blankets in an attempt to keep my composure, but it did nothing as I groaned and panted just as much as I would have if there was nothing to grab.

"Ahhn… damn it, Trunks!" I screamed.

"What is it, Chibi?" he asked coyly as he continued to slowly run his fingers along the bottom of my stomach and the inside of my leg.

"Hurry up and blow me already!" I said, overtaken by passion and not quite believing the words that had just come out of my mouth.

"Ooh, look at you taking charge. I like it," he laughed, cocking his eyebrows. "Well, if you insist."

Trunks grabbed my boxers with both hands and in one swift motion ripped them off as if they were made of paper. The long strands of his purple hair tickled my pelvis as he faced down to take me in his mouth, moving up and down in a steady and perfect rhythm. This was the release I was waiting for; he'd kept me waiting and it was well worth it. I put my hand over my mouth to keep myself from screaming out his name; instead, groans and muffled yells came from my mouth as my toes curled automatically and I thrust my hips in rhythm with the movements of the lips around my dick. I don't know how long had passed before I stopped thrusting; the pleasure had become so great that I'd begun to lose concentration.

"Ahhhhn!" My back arched as I felt myself reaching climax, and before I knew it I'd unloaded my seed into Trunks's mouth. In the haze of the orgasm I could only just barely see Trunks licking his lips as he lay down next to me and draped his arm over my heaving chest.

"You taste like pineapples," Trunks chuckled as I curled my legs up and laid my head on his free arm, overcome with the bliss and exhaustion.

"That was amazing," I mumbled sleepily, my eyes finally succumbing to the seemingly increased gravity.

"Don't you fall asleep on me!" he exclaimed.

"But I'm tired," I whined. "I haven't even eaten in like two days!" Right on cue, my stomach rumbled.

"Fine," Trunks growled. "But you owe me," I heard him yawn, the sheets crumpling beneath him as he rolled over onto his side and I drifted off to sleep once for all.

**To be continued. Please read and review.**


	10. Sensual, Simiple, and Sinful, Pt 2

Disclaimer:  
>The usual disclaimer.. these characters are not my property, any similarities in names or events to actual people is purely coincidental.<p>

**Chapter Nine, Part II: Sensual, Simple, and Sinful: The Oxymoronic, Alliterative Trifecta of Life's Pleasures**

I yawned and smacked my lips as I grabbed at the covers next to me expecting to find my best friend, instead finding nothing. My eyes shot wide open in shock. Had it really happened or was this just another all-too vivid dream? I shut my eyes once more, hard enough for my face to become scrunched up.

_When you open your eyes, he'll be there_.

But nothing. I sighed heavily and ran my fingers through my short, black spikes dejectedly, wondering just why I thought that would work. I shut my eyes once more to let the images from my imagination take form, trying to will them into reality. I took the pillow from under my head and grasped it between my arms, burying my face in it, a part of me wanting to cry.

_It's not fair. _It was all so real. I could even smell him in my pillow as if he had only been here hours ago. I could feel myself slowly be overcome with a horrible sensation, torn between screaming at the top of my lungs and bawling my eyes out. I opted for the former, screaming into the pillow that covered my face.

Yet just as the pillow was covering my face, the scream had covered the sounds of the clicking lock and the creaking door. It was the powerful hands shaking me that got me to cease my cathartic screaming.

"Goten, what's wrong? Are you all right!"

I turned around to see Trunks looking right down at me, as always effortlessly good-looking despite the disheveled hair and the look of worry from what must have been quite an interesting scene to walk into.

"Trunks! Is that really you?" My hand slowly made its way to his face, contorting it into a handful of odd expressions as I grabbed at his cheek to confirm he wasn't a figment of my imagination.

"Yes, Chibi, it's me," he laughed. "Why were you screaming?" he asked, pulling away and rubbing the cheek I had just pinched.

"What? Oh, no reason," I lied, paying more attention to the bags that lay on the floor beside him. "What's that?" I asked, eager to change the subject.

"I bought us some new clothes, since the ones from yesterday are all wet and muddy. Not to mention that that I kinda did away with some of yours," he chuckled.

I had forgotten about my ripped boxers, which lay on the stained carpet next to the single bed. Until I'd thought of them again I had failed to notice that I still lay completely naked in the bed Trunks and I shared the previous night.

"Dude! I'm naked!" I yelled as I pulled the covers over my bottom half.

"So?" he chuckled. "Not like I've never seen you naked before. And after yesterday, well… let's just say from now on seeing you in the nude won't have been the raunchiest thing we've done together."

My eyes narrowed as I glared at him. "Well, that doesn't mean we're gonna walk around each other naked all the time," I scoffed.

"Aw, that's a shame," he sighed, jumping onto the bed next to me, lying face up with his head resting in his clasped hands, his body feeding warmth into my otherwise bare thigh.

"How'd you buy all these clothes anyway?" I asked, reaching into the bag and pulling out what I knew from the bag to be designer clothes. My jaw dropped when I looked at the price tags. "Come to think of it, how did you even pay for this room?"

It wasn't until I'd made that observation that I'd bothered to take a close look at the room. The air conditioner that had failed to work the previous night was covered in rust at the bottom, with some green stuff near the vent that I could only hope was not mold. The thick curtains that covered the window were faded towards the bottom, the conspicuous gradient from beige to almost white made painfully obvious by the sun that poured into the room. The tan carpet had a large stain near the door from what I could only hope was coffee, but would not be surprised if it was in fact blood. Indeed, it can't have been an expensive room, but what with being forced to leave Trunks's apartment less than a few days ago for lack of money, how he'd paid for it definitely raised a red flag.

"How do you think?" he chuckled.

"Charge it?" I asked, thinking to his usual method of subsisting. "But I thought your mom cancelled all your cards."

Trunks sighed, sitting up and running his fingers through his hair on the side, scratching the back of his scalp as he usually did when he was tense or wanted to avoid something.

"Why'd you get all nervous all of a sudden? Did you steal it?" I gasped.

"No, nothing like that," he chuckled. "I just…"

Now it was me that was getting nervous. "What is it?" I pressed, putting down the bag of clothes, the crumpling of the paper bags echoing in the room.

"I don't want you to get mad and have us end up fighting," he sighed.

"I won't get mad, Trunks," I smiled, taking his hand within my own and rubbing my thumb over his palm. He'd done the simple gesture to me on so many occasions, and it always relaxed me more than anything else in this world could. I chuckled inwardly thinking that all those times there was genuine affection behind them.

Trunks sighed and looked at me straight in the eye. "You know how it was that Ariana and I met?"

The question caught me off-guard. I merely blinked, the soft back-and-forth motion of my finger inexplicably stopping.

"Don't freak out, just listen," he groaned. My face drooped slightly, feeling somewhat guilty that I'd already broken the promise I'd made.

"Do you know who Ariana's parents are?" he asked.

I simply and honestly shook my head.

"Nah, you wouldn't. Even if you had heard of them, you have no reason to have made the connection; you barely know anything about her other than us being together and engaged."

I withdrew my hand from Trunks's; though well aware of these two details, being reminded of them didn't particularly leave me jumping for joy, especially considering what it meant for Trunks and mine's own… whatever it is that we have.

"Sorry," he said quickly, snatching my hands ones more and performing the same movement within my own palm. As usual, it was quite relaxing.

"What I was going at was that you don't even know her last name, I don't think." Again, I shook my head. "So you surely don't know her parents own the second-largest telecommunications company in all of Europe. And you definitely have no way of knowing that Capsule's looking to do some kind of merger with them. The only reason it's legal is because the two companies specialize in different areas of technological industry, otherwise it would break all sorts of international trade laws by becoming a global monopoly."

I must have looked just as or more stupid than I felt, because after that last part Trunks chuckled and apologized once more. I always get lost when he talks about business.

"Point is my mom set us up so as to help this deal go more smoothly, and I agreed to do it. She'd threatened me to go along with it or else she'd take this and that away, but I would have done it anyway. Capsule's gonna be mine someday, and I'm not about to object to anything that's gonna help it grow."

"That, and she's pretty cute," I added dejectedly.

"But not as cute as you," Trunks smiled, cocking his eyebrows. I just laughed, not believing he could be so sappy.

"There's that smile I love," he said.

We sat in silence for about a minute, his thumb still absentmindedly making its smooth strokes on my palm. "So how'd you get your mom to give you back your credit card?" I finally said, snapping out of the relaxed stupor brought on by the delicate motion.

"She gave it back to me so I could buy everything for the wedding," he sighed.

"Oh," I blurted, the thought of Trunks marrying Ariana giving me the sensation of my heart growing tighter.

Silence once more. Off in the distance a muffled, whirring noise could be heard, presumably the vacuum cleaner from housekeeping doing their half-assed job in an adjacent room.

"So you're still gonna marry her," I managed to get out. "For Capusle's sake."

"What? No!" he exclaimed. "The deal doesn't count on us getting married. And even if it does go through, it's not like the company will go bankrupt if this deal doesn't go through. And if my mom doesn't like it, well, fuck her."

"That's your dad's job," I laughed. "I wouldn't even want to give her a kiss on the cheek."

"Yeah, she's been a real bitch, hasn't she?"

"Calling her a bitch would be an understatement," I groaned.

"No kidding. You and I should teach her a lesson," he smiled. "And I know just what we're gonna do."

"What's that?" I asked.

"First..." he said, snapping to his feet and pulling the covers off me. "Get dressed."

"I thought you liked seeing me like this," I scoffed, scouring the paper bag with the half-naked male models on them. "So what'd you get me?"

Trunks snatched the bag away from me, digging inside for the appropriate contents. "Underwear… can't have you going around commando," he joked, throwing at me a pack of black boxer briefs with the name of the designer sewn in white into the elastic. "Jeans," he said, throwing me an acid-washed pair with meticulously-placed rips that were just on the borderline between fashionable and absolute garbage. "Shame we're not the same size, I really like those…"

"Like you don't have enough jeans already," I laughed, putting on the articles of clothing tossed my way. "What else?"

"T-shirt," he continued, handing me the white top with the designer's name emblazoned on the front.

"Damn, does this guy put his name on everything?" I grunted, overcome with an odd feeling after putting on the shirt. "Trunks this shirt is too small." What little musculature I had left was contoured by the practically skin-tight top.

"I know," he smiled coyly. "You look good like that. All your shirts are all way too baggy on you, anyway," he added, putting a black-and-white checkered army cap on my head. The new shoes matched the rest of the outfit perfectly; catching my reflection in the dirty mirror I noticed Trunks was right… I did look good.

"There, all dressed. Now what?"

"Tag," he chuckled.

I reached down to take the tags off the clothes, the only other indication, aside from the conspicuous logos on every article, of just how much everything I was wearing cost.

"No, I mean tag," Trunks whispered, leaning in close and pressing his finger to my nose. "You're it." He laughed as he walked to the door, opened it, and flew out, the gush of wind in the small room pulling the curtains right off the window.

The announcement caught me completely by surprise. For the most part, Trunks had always hated games when we were children. Well, not video games, particularly ones that had fast cars and gratuitous violence. But as far as the ones of the tag or hide-and-seek variety, it would be me who'd suggest them and Trunks who'd, at best, go along with them. What's more, now we weren't even children anymore.

"Hurry up, slowpoke!" I heard him shout distantly as he floated outside.

Who was I to deny him my childhood pleasure? I rose from the bed and walked outside. The moment I appeared in the doorway Trunks bolted off, quickly becoming no more than a dot in the distance. I too, took off at top speed behind him, the hat Trunks had just bought me flying off my head. But I barely even noticed it; I was flying, the wind blowing my short, black spikes in all directions and pushing my cheeks back.

"No fair, you got a head start!" I shouted, not even sure if he could possibly hear me, he was so far ahead. But he was ahead, I could sense him.

The rush of flying was like no other. _How could you have possibly denied yourself this for a whole year while you slaved away to keep up that meager existence you called my life?_

Hundreds of feet up, the people and cars below me small as ants, without a care in the world. _Whatever happens, you're never going back, you're staying here_.

Playing tag with my best friend, just like old times. _Here's where you belong_.

My best friend who I love. _Here with him_.

And he loves me too.

I squint and in the distance I see a spot of lavender; I power up and race toward it. The spot gets bigger and bigger as I get close to it, faster than I would have thought considering I was chasing him. Unless I powered up more than I'd thought and was now going faster than the speed of sound. Or, unless he was just…

We both fall down to the ground as I crash into Trunks, who was floating in midair, completely still. "Gotcha," I groan, reeling from the fall.

"You okay, Chibi?" he smiles, pushing himself off the ground and helping me up as well.

"I'm alive, if that's what you mean." In other regards I was less than okay; looking around me I realized where he'd led me to: Capsule Corp. A chill ran down my spine thinking of the warning I'd received from Bulma a few nights ago. After all she's done so far, I don't even want to imagine what she'll do when she find out me and Trunks are…

"Trunks, what are we?" I blurted.

"Hmm?" he responded, cocking an eyebrow to what I realized was a perhaps odd and definitely random question. "We're half-Saiyans," he chuckled.

"No, I mean, what are _we_? You and I… us… what is this?"

Trunks smiled and grabbed my hand. He pulled me in and kissed me on the lips softly, biting my bottom lip as he pulled away. "I'm hungry, let's go inside."

"You didn't-" I began, before he jerked me towards the residential complex, not letting me finish the sentence. Maybe I was meant to take the chaste kiss in broad daylight on the grounds of his residence and place of business as an answer. I still would have liked a word for what we were. Confirm that he thinks of me as more than just a friend with benefits.

"Dad, I'm home," Trunks said, greeting Vegeta, who was uncharacteristically out from the sanctuary that was his gravity chamber. Plates of food were piled in front of him; I suppose everyone's gotta eat sometime.

"Hey, Vegeta," I added meekly, looking around and listening carefully to make sure Bulma wasn't around.

"Why haven't you kept up with your training?" Vegeta queried; mine weren't the only random questions going around. I wasn't even sure he was talking to me, at first.

"Been busy, I guess. School and work," I replied concisely, not wanting to reveal to Vegeta all the details of my ordeal, and quite certain that he wouldn't care either way.

"You are a powerful Saiyan warrior. If my boy is to have you as his mate, I expect you to act like one." I heard Trunks chuckle as my eyes widened.

"He's been calling you my mate since that other day," Trunks laugh.

"Don't you laugh, boy. The same goes for you. You are both weak. And this one is positively scrawny," Vegeta added.

I pouted, resenting being called scrawny. Granted, I don't look as strong as I used to, but Vegeta was exaggerating. And next to Vegeta, who was huge courtesy of training every day practically nonstop for the past ten years, anybody looked scrawny.

"I'm off to train," Vegeta said, rising and heading toward the door. "As should you."

"Sure thing, dad," replied Trunks. "Where's Mother?"

"Around," Vegeta grunted, closing the sliding glass door behind him.

_Shit, Bulma_.

"Trunks, let's go eat somewhere else. Anywhere else, just not here."

"What's wrong with here?" he chuckled. "It's great food, lots of it, doesn't cost us a cent and we don't have to lift a finger. Plus, phase one of my plan starts right here,"

"Phase one? Plan? Trunks, it's not the food, it's—"

"Look, my dad didn't even touch half his food. And he left all the desserts, I know how you love those," Trunks beamed.

"Yeah, I do, but I just –"

"Open wide," he announced, cutting me off yet again by shoving a piece of chocolate cake into my mouth.

Leave it to the person who knew me best to know how to shut me up. The chocolaty pastry practically melted in my mouth; Trunks knew it was my favorite dessert, and this one was certainly of the best I'd ever tried. I unconsciously closed my eyes to fully enjoy the treat I'd been given.

Trunks grabbed my hand and dipped my finger in the whipped cream topping another pastry on the food-filled table. He pulled my own hand to his mouth and sucked on the covered finger, yet another moment of tease and affection like the many he'd drawn me into over the past day. My eyes still shut, I reveled in the electrictifying sensation that ran down my arm and through the rest of my body.

I opened my eyes to look at him, and found him smiling. Only it was neither innocent nor peaceful, but rather sly and cunning. I focused on his warm blue eyes, troubled by the fact that they didn't focus into my own, or into me, but just past me.

And then I felt it.

I didn't even need to turn around to feel the numbing sensation or the piercing stare of those eyes; the blue eyes that were so unlike Trunks's. While his were warm and welcoming, hers were cold and empty. I gulped as I turned around slowly, each turquoise lock of hair sending dread into every inch of my body.

I made to withdraw my finger from Trunks's mouth; end the erotic gesture before any more damage could be done. But whatever Trunks's plan was, it only seemed to involve causing even more damage, as he held my hand in its place, my index finger clasped tightly within his lips.

I was clearly the only one overcome with the feeling of trepidation, seemingly made worse by the low laughter coming from my purple-haired friend.

"Hi mom."

**To be continued. Please read and review. **


	11. Life of the Party

Disclaimer:  
>The usual disclaimer.. these characters are not my property, any similarities in names or events to actual people is purely coincidental.<p>

Author's note (unedited from original publishing):

My sincerest apologies to all my readers.

(Not so) recently I accidentally stepped on my laptop while it was closed and lay on the floor. The result was a cracked screen which made working on it practically impossible, and so my writing slowly ground to a halt until stopping completely. Since then I've gotten a new laptop (which I've had for a while), but in spending so much time away from my story I'd all but forgotten about it.

It shocks and rather pains me to think that it's been well over a year since I originally published the first chapter of the story that I've gotten so many positive reviews of and has been favorited and set for alert so many times, particularly (and somewhat oddly) in the past week or so. It's those continued notifications that have driven me to continue writing. Those of you who have written your own stories know and appreciate how valuable feedback can be to a writer, particularly when they're reaching the end of their journey and have to struggle to keep going. Keep 'em coming.

We're in the final stretch, ladies and gents. This chapter marks the beginning of the end, if you will. So I dust this story off to bring you…

**Chapter Ten: Life of the Party**

"Morning, sweetie," she responded behind a smile so ideal it sent even more chills down my spine.

Being a veteran in the entrepreneurial world, Bulma Briefs had been allowed more than enough time and gone through enough business deals to perfect that million-dollar smile that characterized every member of that family, save for Vegeta, who I'd only seen smile about once or twice in my entire life.

"Hello, Goten," she continued, raising her eyebrows somewhat, presumably at the spectacle she'd just witnessed. Her smile never wavered.

"Hey," I eked out nervously, summoning my strength to take control of my hand once again, yanking it away from Trunks's lips.

That she seemed so jovial and serene frightened me perhaps even more than if she were flipping out, screaming every obscenity and threat that popped in her head. The smile didn't fool me; with everything that's happened in the past few days, I was beginning to see that Bulma's tactic was to mix a spoonful of sugar with the vile venom she force-fed down your throat. It probably helped that Trunks was standing right there.

"I was about to order some lunch. You guys want some?" she queried, smile intact.

"No thanks," Trunks smiled back. "Goten and I have been enjoying some of dad's leftover dessert."

My eyes widened at the comment and I elbowed Trunks on his side; judging by his groan, it was perhaps a little harder than intended.

"Ow," he uttered, rubbing the spot I'd just struck. The conspicuous motion may have shed more attention on the scene Bulma had walked in on, but I had to get Trunks to shut up one way or the other.

"All right, then," she sighed, turning to exit the kitchen. "Make sure you have everything ready for tonight."

"Actually, now that you mention it, I need another pass," Trunks declared, making Bulma stop just at the door.

"I already gave you all your passes," she sighed, turning around.

"Well can't you give me one more?"

"There's an attendee limit and everything's already coordinated with the caterers," she responded, revealing her first signs of exasperation as the smile finally began to waver.

"We're organizing the damn thing. It's just one more person," Trunks continued in his characteristic resilience.

"Fine, I'll make sure Goten's on the list," she uttered, turning around once more to exit the kitchen.

"How'd you know it was for Goten?" Trunks shouted to his mother, who had already left.

"Lucky guess," she shouted back, the sound muffled by the distance.

"Are you insane?" I shouted, as soon as I was sure she was out of earshot. To my disdain, Trunks just chuckled.

"Don't pretend like you didn't like it," he chortled, grabbing me by the hand and leading me up the stairs.

I made to pull my hand away from Trunks's, still reeling from the earlier scene and not quite eager to end up in another similar one. His tight grip didn't allow me, so I grudgingly followed to his room, me being the lost puppy and his arm being my leash.

It's not like I didn't know the way to his room; I'd only been here about a million and one times. I was expecting the room to be as I'd last seen it: practically empty as of Trunks's moving out. Instead, it was full of boxes, packages, and suitcases carelessly strewn all across the large room. Glinting stainless steel pots that had gone unused; contemporary and oddly-colored furniture wrapped in plastic for protection; electronics of all shapes and sizes, most branding the Capsule Corp. logo; multitudes of clothes and shoes in various boxes with no apparent order to them; and a myriad of other things. Were it any other room but one located in Capsule Corp, there would barely be any space to walk; however, there was still plenty of room. One might even say it was still habitable.

"Heads up," said Trunks having walked over to one of the stacks and throwing something in my direction.

I almost fell backwards after catching the tattered leather object. Having been caught by surprise, it took me a moment to recognize the suitcase containing what few earthly belongings I had, which had become little more than a distant memory in my haste to stay away from Trunks and Bulma. Making the connection, I realized the boxes were full of the things that had conspicuously disappeared from his apartment a few days ago.

"Holy crap, I'd completely forgotten about this! I really could have used this. Before you bought me this I'd been wearing the same clothes for three days," I commented.

"Ew," laughed Trunks. "So you haven't bathed either, then?"

"I bathed in the river and all that rain sort of counts as a shower," I chuckled.

"Okay, good," he chortled. "Blowing you after three days of you not washing up definitely doesn't qualify as good hygiene."

"Shh!" I hissed, my eyes widening and darting to the door to make sure no one was there to hear the comment.

"You still owe me, Chibi," he growled coyly, letting himself fall back onto the bed and cocking his eyebrows.

I mentally chuckle at the thought. "I sure do, but I'm definitely not gonna do it here," I groaned, kneeling down to open my suitcase, struggling with an apparently stuck zipper.

"No sense of adventure," he sighed, getting up to rummage through one seemingly random box as I finally got my suitcase open and began neatly folding on the floor the few clothes contained inside. I couldn't help but notice how faded and coarse my own clothes looked and felt compared to the fancy ones Trunks had bought me.

"You wouldn't happen to have a suit in there, would you?" Trunks queried, never ceasing his rummaging.

"No, why?"

"Try this on," he said after apparently finding what he was searching for, throwing a baby blue dress shirt in my direction which one more caught me off guard and ended up draped over my head.

"What for?"

"To see if it fits you, dummy," he responded matter-of-factly.

Grumbling, I made to put on the dress shirt over the shirt I already wore, which was already skin-tight; taking the latter off would not have made much of a difference. I could only just hear a barely audible groan from Trunks, presumably from disappointment at that fact.

Putting my arms into the sleeves only confirmed what I'd already expected: they were a little long. That, or my arms were too short. Or rather, Trunks was just taller than me; I've always thought my dimensions were just fine. I'd only fastened two buttons before I realized that the shirt was also too wide on my torso.

"Have I really lost so much weight? I used to be able to wear your clothes just fine," I grumbled, rolling up the long sleeves. "Well, your t-shirts, anyway."

"Haha, don't worry, that shirt's probably big on me, too. It's pretty old," he said while rummaging through more boxes. He could have fooled me; the silk or cashmere or whatever-the-hell fabric shirt I wore looked brand-new.

"Is this shirt for whatever I'm now invited to tonight?" I asked, unbuttoning the top that was apparently too large for either of us.

"Gah!" Trunks exclaimed, knocking a box down to the ground and leaving my question unanswered. "I can't find any of my clothes. There's so many damn boxes here! It's as if they just put everything in whatever box it fit in and shipped it over here." So these were the missing wares from his apartment, after all.

"Come on, we're going shopping," he sighed, throwing one of the many boxes onto his bed in frustration.

"Again?" I chuckled.

"Yeah. Not gonna wear those clothes to the party, are you?" he laughed, grabbing my arm to pick me up off the floor.

"What party? What's going on!" I groaned as I was pulled by Trunks toward the window, exasperated from being dragged around as I had been all morning.

"Tonight's CC's big shareholders' banquet. Didn't you know?"

"Um…" I mumbled rather stupidly. "Was I supposed to?"

"Dunno," he laughed. "You own any shares of Capsule?"

"My mom might," I shrugged.

"Either way, it's tonight and you're my plus one," he smiled, locking his arm around mine. My body tingled at the gesture.

"So we have to buy suits?" I asked.

"Yup," he responded, unlocking his arm from mine and unlocking the large window, pushing it open.

"You've already bought me too much crap. The phone, the clothes I'm wearing…" I grumbled. "Now you're gonna buy me a suit?"

"Don't worry about it, Chibi," he said, ruffling my short hair playfully.

"No, I can't just shrug it off. If I could at least pay you back, then maybe it'd be okay," I groaned. "But I can't."

"Oh, you can definitely pay me back," Trunks said coyly, turning around to walk up to me, his hand finding his way to the small of my back and pulling me up close to him.

"Trunks, not here!" I groaned, nervously pushing him away, my eyes darting to the door.

"Where, then?" he growled coyly.

"Let's go shopping first," I chuckled, heading towards the open window and taking off into the sky, followed closely by Trunks.

We tend to avoid flying when we're over the city so as to not draw attention to ourselves; I always hated that fact, considering how much I love to fly. However, the day had become somewhat cloudy; not quite rainy, overcast weather, but enough for us to have something to hide behind. I smiled as the wind rushed past my face, while Trunks and I continued the game of tag from earlier this morning. Funny how happiness brings out the child in you.

It was him that was paying for the clothes and knew where to buy them, so Trunks eventually took the lead. He flew down under the clouds every now and then to get an idea of our location. After the fifth or sixth dip he signaled for me to follow him and we landed on the roof of one of the city's skyscrapers; we were apparently downtown. As we headed through the entrance down to the main building, I couldn't help but think how this setting reminded me of all those rooftop scenes in action movies.

We found the elevator and I hit the down button. The elevator beeped repeatedly as we waited for it to reach the top floor we were on. I was startled when his large hands found their way to my waist, my back arching with each soft squeeze, perfectly synchronized with the steady beeping.

I looked around warily before letting my head fall back onto his shoulder. "Sure there's nobody around?"

"Just why are you so worried about getting caught?" he breathed onto my neck, the warm air making my whole body warm.

"Aren't you?" I asked, shutting my eyes as his hands found their way farther forward and farther down. The squeezing had stopped but the beeping continued.

"I don't get worried, I get turned on," he whispered, planting a soft kiss on my exposed neck. "And so do you," he growled, squeezing my growing erection.

With the squeeze the elevator gave its final beep and the doors slowly began to open. I grabbed Trunks's hands and pushed them away, my heart beating a mile a minute faced with the risk of being caught in the act.

"Relax, Chibi," he chuckled, wrapping his arm around me and flipping me around, placing the hand on my chest to push me backwards into the elevator and pinning me to the back wall. "It's just you and me up here," His other hand found my wrist, restraining my hand against the wall I was trapped against; his head tilted slightly as his lips found their way to mine.

I breathed heavily as our lips tussled. I could feel Trunks's lips slightly parted, and almost instinctively my tongue found its way through the gap. As I explored the depths of his mouth, I could hear him moan slightly. My eyes widened upon hearing the sound, not expecting it. I couldn't help but notice Trunks's own eyes closed tightly, apparently reveling in the pleasure that was my taking the initiative. Realizing I had the upper hand, I grabbed the wrist of the hand that restrained my own, pushing Trunks to the side of the elevator, posing him in the exact same position I was previously in.

I bit on his lower lip before making my way to his neck, leaning toward the side to allow myself access to his earlobe. I nibbled on it gently just as he had done to me the previous night, producing what must have been similar results, judging by the tilting back of his head, which separated his entire body from the elevator wall. My hand found the small of his back, and my digits wedged their way under his belt.

Just as they had, the elevator doors drew to a close and the lift began to move downward. Caught by surprise and my guard momentarily lowered, Trunks seized the opportunity to break free from my grasp and push me to the opposite side of the elevator, holding my each of my arms tightly on either side of me so I couldn't move. While I was busy Trunks had apparently hit the button that would lead us to the lobby. The darting of my eyes back and forth had apparently told him I'd noticed. In response, he only grinned.

"No emergency stop button."

My eyes widened at the comment. He apparently wasn't kidding when he said the thought of getting caught turned him on. The elevator began beeping again as it descended each floor, while Trunks began mirroring the sensual movements I'd just performed on him. His tongue teasingly flitted across the vein on my neck. I felt his warmth as he came in closer, rubbing his own bound erection on my thigh, his hands otherwise occupied keeping me in place.

My heart began to race, beating faster with each floor we reached, a combination of the pleasure I felt from Trunks's actions and the fear that at any one of the dozens of floors the elevator would stop. When it did and someone walked in, they would find the future president of Capsule Corp. making out with and groping some seemingly random, raven-haired companion.

I struggled to free myself in vain. As my panic grew, I was baffled at how Trunks masterfully managed to keep me completely still and kiss me so sensually, on top of which he had begun to unfasten my belt. To do so he had released one of my arms, freeing me from the deadlock I was just in. I quickly made to push him away, but couldn't find the strength to do so, overcome by the pleasure of his hand that found its way down my pants and to my engorged cock.

As he began to perform the back-and-forth motions with his hand that made my legs weak, the elevator slowed to a halt on the 17th floor.

"T-Trunks," I groaned between heaving breaths. "Elevator… stopped."

"I know," he grinned.

The elevator beeped once. Trunks rested his forehead upon mine and looked straight into my eyes, motions of his hand never ceasing. His eyes narrowed, the sly expression telling me just how much he was enjoying the rush.

The elevator beeped once more. In a split second Trunks withdrew his hand from my pants and put a few feet of distance between us, running his hand through his ruffled hair to make it neat once more, just before the doors opened to reveal three men dressed in suits, each with a briefcase in one hand and a cell phone in the other. I welcomed their respective distractions; while Trunks had that split second to make himself presentable, here I was still panting, shaking slightly, pants undone and erection easily noticeable through the few layers of tight clothes I wore. I can only imagine my face was a nice shade of crimson.

The three businessmen hung up their calls once they entered the elevator; presumably the signal would die as soon as they were inside. The trio stood between us the rest of the silent ride down. I was preoccupied with trying to make myself look presentable and conceal the bulge in my pants; Trunks would coyly lick his lips every now and then; the three strange men paid no heed to either of us. With our difference in attire, which if at all possible made me feel more uncomfortable, I imagine they shrugged us off as a couple of random kids.

The elevator stopped four more times, during which several people entered and exited the elevator. A couple of people glanced at Trunks, most of them women. I can't help but wonder if they actually recognized him or they just thought he was attractive. The jealous part of me wanted to tell them all to stop. Eventually we finally reached the lobby and got out of the elevator; I punched Trunks on the shoulder as soon as we'd gotten out.

"Ow," he laughed. "Come on, you didn't like that rush? Not even a little?"

"I'm not an exhibitionist like you," I groaned. "And you didn't have to hide this," I added, motioning towards the bulge in my pants that had yet to fully subside.

"Not my fault you have a big dick," he chuckled, beginning to walk. "Mine's bigger, though."

I rolled my eyes at the comment.

If the men in suits had made me feel out of place, it was nothing compared to the layout of the lobby. The expansive floor and scattered columns were made entirely of marble; there were few actual walls, just glass separating everything, including the inside of the building from the crowded city street. The offices in the building were apparently limited to the upper stories; the ground floor had nothing but restaurants, trendy boutiques, jewelry stores, and a number of other things that make up the haven of those with bottomless wallets.

After following Trunks through several corridors, we reached the store we'd come for. A short, plump woman greeted Trunks quite warmly; once again I doubted if he was recognized or if he was just a frequent customer. I stood by the door, not quite sure what to say or do. I'd never bought dress clothes before; everything I'd worn had either been lent to me by Trunks or handed down to me by Wonder Boy. Trunks told the woman why we were here, and before I knew it I was accosted by her and her tape measure.

"Such handsome young men, you two are," she giggled as she took my measurements. I'm pretty sure she didn't need to be squeezing my arms and chest so much to figure out the kind of suit I needed. She'd gone to measure Trunks once she was through with me but he already knew his measurements, much to the disdain of the woman, who let out an audible groan upon being denied feeling up Trunks as well.

"Frisky, isn't she?" Trunks whispered to me when she'd gone off to get suits in our respective sizes.

"Not as much as you," I groaned, recalling the elevator ride down.

The woman eventually came back, handing me a black suit and Trunks a blue one. "Matches your eyes," she smiled, apparently talking to both of us.

By the time we'd each tried on our suits and Trunks had paid for them, and had eaten in one of the many restaurants in the building, it was already late in the afternoon, so we hurried back to Capsule to get ready for the banquet.

The residential complex's many showers helped expedite the process of the dozen or so people needing to get ready. I idly thought about just how long it would take this many people to get ready in my house, where we didn't have multiple showers. Hell, we didn't even have one; just a common barrel that everyone bathed in.

I showered quickly and dressed in my new clothes, meticulously removing all the pins so that no accidents occurred. The creases on my newly unpackaged shirt stuck out conspicuously, but the blazer I wore over it removed any need to iron the shirt. I fiddled with the silver tie that had been picked out for me, looping it in several different directions and combinations in a useless attempt to make a knot.

"Need any help?" asked Trunks, who had apparently finished getting ready. It was no surprise he'd done so quicker than me; he did this on an almost daily basis.

"Please," I chuckled, sighing in defeat.

"We gotta hurry. Car's already waiting downstairs. You have everything?"

"Yeah," I replied, deciding it was quicker than explaining that I didn't have anything to forget. My wallet was empty and I'd pawned off my phone. I was amazed how Trunks managed to tie the elusive knot in a mere fraction of the time it had taken me to try and fail several times.

"We riding with your parents?" I queried, following him out of the bathroom and down the stairs to the main entrance.

"Nope, but a few of the executives are," he groaned.

"Disappointed you can't try anything?" I smirked.

"You have no idea."

….

I'd never been to a hotel as fancy as where the banquet was to be held, and I felt some amount of trepidation, augmented somewhat by my inability to put my finger on what about this setting made me feel out of place. Was it the series of ornate fountains that adorned the entrance, the line of valets running back and forth parking the luxurious cars that drove in the open-air roundabout, or the gold-strewn décor that reflected pale light on the elaborate murals covering the walls of the expansive lobby?

Maybe it was just the fact that I was wearing a suit for the first time since I was a kid. Or I was just dreading running into Bulma. Telling myself it would be very unlikely to run into her in the large room full of people she, as president of the company, would have to greet, I made a futile attempt to shrug that last one off. Futile being the operative word.

We stopped every now and then for Trunks to exercise some diplomacy of his own with current and potential business associates. The formality and tact he practiced so flawlessly kind of surprised me. I half-expected him to start groping me in the middle of the crowded lobby. "You'd better not make a scene," I warned once we were out of earshot, having become acquainted with Trunks's penchant for exhibitionism.

"Don' t worry, I won't," he smiled surreptitiously. "Not here, anyway." I wasn't sure how secure that made me feel.

Formalities dispensed, we walked past the large, circular bar in the lobby, where I was quite tempted to order a drink to calm myself down, and down a hallway with tall doors designated "conference rooms." I was expecting to walk into any of the several that lined the hallway, but followed Trunks as he kept walking towards an elaborate staircase, at the top of which beyond two crystal chandeliers I made out the words "Millenium Ballroom."

"The banquet's in there?" I asked.

"Of course," Trunked chuckled in response. "It's a Capsule event, you think we weren't gonna pull out all the stops?"

At the top of the staircase, the elaborate murals became mixed in with red, velvet curtains that offset the golden decorations all over. Behind large, glass doors lay several fountains and even more chandeliers. When I felt my nervousness increase, I instinctively spotted another bar in the distance.

Two tall, burly men guarded the entrance to the area; not that either Trunks or I couldn't take them both with arms tied behind our backs. They were checking that all the guests were indeed invited. Fortunately for me, true to her promise this morning, Bulma had made sure I had access; of course, Trunks didn't need to identify himself.

More schmoozing took place within the ballroom foyer, during which I wandered off to the bar I'd spotted before entering. Not surprisingly, I found Vegeta had wandered over here as well. He looked strange wearing a fancy suit; I don't think I had ever seen him wear anything other than training clothes or Saiyan armor. He looked as uncomfortable as he probably felt, which probably explained the half-finished drink in his hand, as well as the three empty glasses resting next to him on the otherwise empty bar.

"What'll you have, boy?" blurted Vegeta.

"Same as you, I guess," I shrugged.

"Two whiskeys with 7-Up," he said to the bartender, who poured and served them quickly, with us being his only two clients for the moment.

"Cheers," he groaned, grabbing his glass and clinking it with my own, still resting on the bar.

"Cheers," I reciprocated, picking up my glass and sipping the odd and slightly bitter drink, pondering if _that _had been our longest one-on-one conversation ever.

Out of the corner of my eye I made out the pompous movements of my mother, ogling the impressive architecture, pointing it out to a myriad of people who were clearly not as impressed or interested as she was. My temper had flared somewhat with just thinking back at her ploy to exile me a little over a year ago. It was the first time I'd seen her since storming out of the house. She was apparently coping well. Still, I had no interest whatsoever in talking to her.

I left the bar and heading toward the large set of double doors leading into the main ballroom. I was taken aback by the size of the place, not quite expecting it to be so large. Dotting the room were a series of large, round tables with ornate bouquets in the center. Each table was surrounded by a dozen chairs, each corresponding to a series of utensils and upturned glasses; my only thought was that it had to be impossible to use every one in a single meal.

Many of the seats were already occupied. Many of the empty ones were quartered off by signs reading 'reserved.' The majority of the people here were quite old, or so their graying hair made them seem; with the stressful and hectic lives most executives live nowadays, the thought of their hair graying prematurely wasn't an entirely foreign one. I would have killed for someone in the crowd more my age, or at the very least with interests outside of international business.

My stomach churned when I realized what I asked for had inadvertently come true. Socializing with the investors was none other than Wonder Boy. My best guess was that he was trading stock tips so as to multiply his newfound wealth. I honestly didn't care; my only concern was to stay as far away from the bastard as possible.

I continued walking in the opposite direction looking for a seat. Just as the frustration from feeling out of place was reaching its breaking point, I catch a glimpse of an unmistakable lavender head of hair heading in my direction, dissipating my vexation almost instantly.

"Having fun?" he smiled sarcastically.

"Tons," I replied wearily. "Everyone here I either don't know or would much rather not talk to."

"My mom?" he chuckled, possibly thinking of my disdain for her.

"And _my_ mom. And my _brother_."

"I'm sorry you're bored," Trunks sighed. "But trust me, things are gonna get a little more exciting in a bit," he smiled, squeezing my hand reassuringly.

"Exciting how?" I began to ask, when some microphone feedback pierced the large banquet hall, interrupting me.

The empty seats began to fill as all heads in the room turned toward the long table set up at the end of the room. Seated along it were a bunch of official-looking people, two of which I'd ridden in the car in, others which I'd seen in and around Capsule's corporate headquarters. One near the left end of the table, despite never having seen him before, looked oddly familiar. At the center of the table, tapping the microphone that created the feedback, was none other than Bulma.

"Drink up, you may need it," he declared, arching his eyebrow and heading towards the table to join the rest of the executives.

"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed shareholders, thank you all for being here. I'm proud to…" began Bulma, reciting a speech that despite how natural it sounded, it seemed she had endlessly rehearsed it. I scouted the sea of round tables for an open seat, preferably at one where neither my brother nor my mother was sitting. To my surprise they were sitting at tables on opposite site of the large room; to my disdain that decreased the possibilities of my finding a table I'd be comfortable at. Turning around, I spotted an open seat at a table where those seated were either too entranced by Bulma or too drunk to notice my arrival. Just as I sat, Trunks arrived at the main table and took the open seat next to his mother.

"So please enjoy your meal, and thank you again for coming," concluded Bulma as a sea of waiters erupted from the side doors bringing a myriad of plates to feed an entire army. Almost immediately chatter erupted once more as plates and silverware clattered and echoed, with a live classical ensemble to set the soundtrack to the noise.

I looked around in vain for a menu, only to find that in events like these rather than give you a choice of what to eat, they just give you one of everything. The place in front of me rapidly filled up with plates full of Caesar salad, broccoli soup, steamed lobster, small but thick steaks, pasta, fish fillet, hearty lasagna, and even desserts. My mouth watered upon seeing the banquet, the myriad of utensils suddenly making sense.

I was so entranced by the delicious feast that I barely noticed when the chatter and clatter suddenly died down, this time the result of a stereotypical clinking champagne glass bringing the crowd and the ambient classical music to a hush for an announcement. This time it wasn't Bulma commanding the attention of the crowd. It was Trunks.

"Good evening, everyone. Sorry to interrupt this delicious feast, but as long as we're taking a break from business I'd like to take this opportunity to make an announcement," began Trunks. Whatever few people had remained eating put their forks down, curious as to what the golden boy and future CEO of Capsule could have to say.

"Actually, that's not entirely true. There is some business involved," interrupted Bulma, leaning into the microphone to make her interjection. Some in the crowd chuckled, either at the comment or the gesture.

"Okay, yes, there is some business," Trunks smiled bashfully. "As many of you know, for some time now I've been in a relationship with the lovely Ms. Ariana Aston, who is in the audience today," he continued, gesturing toward her in the sea of shareholders. Had everyone not turned to glance at Ariana, they could have seen Bulma beaming in pride and accomplishment.

"As a matter of fact," he continued, "today is the day that I am to publically announce my engagement to her," he added. Heads turned back toward Trunks, and applause rang out from the crowd. The comment made me feel that familiar sensation of a knot in my chest, the applause only serving to tighten it.

Waiting for the applause to die down, Trunks continued.

"But I am not up here to announce its coming to fruition. But rather, that I am breaking it off."

A collective murmur spread through the room like wildfire. Heads turned toward Ariana once more, in response to the shocked squeal emanating from her. Bulma's face visibly contorted to a mixture of lividness and shock. The familiar man on the head table sprayed red wine all over the white tablecloth, spewing out a mouthful in surprise. Looking closer I was able to place where I knew the man from; I'd never seen him before, but he bore a striking resemblance to Ariana. Squinting, I could make out the tiny paper plaque, now stained with wine, that saved his spot on the table: _Reserved for Gustav Aston_.

"What about the merger?" whispered one of the now-alert patrons at my table. Apparently the motives behind the relationship were just as much public knowledge as the relationship itself. Whether Ariana was clear on this detail or not was up to debate; whatever the truth was, her only response was that of tears as she ran out of the room.

"As my mother has already stated," continued Trunks when the scene calmed slightly, "This does relate to business somewhat. Many of you are already familiar with the upcoming merger between Capsule Corporation and Aston Telecommunications. As future president, I wish for nothing but the success and prosperity of our future joint company. However, I cannot in my right mind condone a matrimony that is based entirely on politics, and nothing else," persisted Trunks, slightly rising his voice to get his voice over the unyielding murmurs.

All the while his eyes were fixed on the stunned Mr. Aston. By this point, there was no doubt in my mind that he was Ariana's father.

"A relationship," he added, "must be based on a true connection between two people. On trust. On love." Trunks broke his apparent staring contest with Aston, and looked straight out into the audience, at me. "Those are things that I feel for someone else here tonight."

A few took notice of him looking out into the audience. Many began looking around, as if searching for the other woman that would lead to the downfall of stock prices and the potential loss of millions.

"I would like that person to come up here," Trunks concluded. This time, every head in the room began looking for the mystery woman. I just buried my head in my blazer, hoping no one would notice the look of shock and embarrassment on my face.

"Come on up here, Chibi!" Trunks urged while the murmurs increased, no doubt due to the affectionate nickname that I'd come to love over the years, but at this moment I hated more than anything in the world. _Damn exhibitionist_.

The thought came too soon, for after a seemingly eternal half-minute of standing and waiting, Trunks simply chuckled. "Fine, I'll come to you."

Trunks jumped over the table, knocking the microphone over, filling the room with the noise of feedback once again. A fuming Bulma futilely attempted to stop him, being one of the few people in the room who knew what was going on. All I could focus on was my heart beating a mile a minute, although a small part of me that wasn't worrying about everything that was going on wondered what Bulma would do to keep the resulting public relations nightmare in check.

As Trunks headed straight for me, my only instinct was to get out of there. Against my best judgment, I stood up to bolt for the door, clumsily knocking over the chair in which I sat; as soon as I did, every head in the room turned toward me, chatters of doubt and disbelief filling the air.

My feet, which felt like stone, finally began to move, but not as soon as I would have liked. Before I knew it, Trunks grabbed the back of my blazer and pulled me back. Grabbing me by the arm, he spun me around and planted a kiss on my lips, right in the middle of an audience of over a hundred people. Shocked gasps, indistinct conversations, the clicking of flashing camera bulbs, and even the sound of a few shattered glasses filled the air almost instantaneously.

Part of me tried pushing myself away, but Trunks wouldn't allow me. The mixture of passion and futility forced me to just give up and give in to the ardor, and I kissed him back just as passionately. Just before gravity took control of my eyes, forcing them to close, I caught glimpse of Bulma's acid stare, as if in warning that this wasn't over yet.

Breaking the kiss, Trunks turned to face the rest of the crowd. "Well, that was my announcement. Thanks for your attention, and enjoy your meal and the rest of your evening," he declared with a stupid and satisfied smile.

After a long pause, music filled the room once more, barely audible over the startled conversation that had never stopped. I looked at Trunks, almost resentful of the triumphant smile plastered on his face.

"This was your master plan?" I groaned.

"What? You didn't like it?" he queried back.

"You're a goddamn exhibitionist," I sighed, unable to contain the smirk brought on by his infectious smile.

"Did you see the face on my mother?" he laughed.

"Yeah," I exclaimed, more out of worry than triumph.

A soft tapping on my shoulder startled me. I turned around to find one of the people I'd been trying to avoid all night.

"So you're finally an item?" chuckled Gohan.

"Yup!" Trunks exclaimed proudly, putting his hand around my waist and pulling me in close to him. I felt like pushing away at first, but now that it was all out in the open I figured there was no point. That, and I quite liked being this close to Trunks.

"About damn time," he sighed. "I never thought it would take this long for you two to get together."

_It's partly his fault_. My blood began to boil at the comment.

"Here," he said, handing Trunks and I a pair of champagne glasses.

"What the hell is this for?" I spat bitingly.

"To celebrate, little bro!" smiled Wonder Boy, reaching to ruffle my hair with his now empty hand. I would have pulled away were it not for being held in Trunks's semi-embrace. He grabbed a third champagne glass from an adjacent table and raised it over his head. "A toast."

"Cheers, Wonder Boy," laughed Trunks, apparently tickled by tonight's turn of events.

For as much as I hated to acknowledge him, Wonder Boy was right. Trunks and I were finally together, and it was finally official. That was certainly a good a cause as any to celebrate.

"Cheers," I groaned, begrudgingly downing the champagne in a single gulp.

**To be continued. Please read and review. **


	12. The New Celebrity

Disclaimer:  
>The usual disclaimer.. these characters are not my property, any similarities in names or events to actual people is purely coincidental.<p>

**Chapter Eleven: A New Celebrity**

I slowly opened my eyes as a slit of light coming in through the closed curtains woke me. I rubbed my eyes groggily, as if to drive away the sleep that was left in them so I could better gather my surroundings through the slight hangover. It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the beam of light that, while rather dim, seemed unusually bright for the room's darkness. I had only just taken in the large television atop a piece of ornate furniture in what seemed to be a fancy hotel room when I noticed a refreshing warmth in the bed next to me, and a powerful arm curled delicately around my stomach.

And just like a domino toppling onto its neighbors setting off a chain reaction, it all came rushing back to me. The gala and the scene Trunks had made; the copious amounts of champagne that had been consumed starting with that first toast brought to us by my brother; the drunken blow job I received. That last one brought a smile to my face, a smile that beamed wider when I looked to my right to stare at my lavender-locked companion only to notice the goofy expression that adorned his face while he slept.

I gently put my arm atop the arm he had wrapped around me. My caution to not waken him was futile, though; as soon as I did his legs shifted under the covers, his strong arm gave me a gentle squeeze, and his goofy expression turned into a smile that mirrored my own.

"Morning, beautiful," he whispered behind a now surreptitious smile, while his arm stealthily made his way a little farther down than my stomach.

"You just don't quit, do you?" I laughed. It was more a statement of fact than a complaint. Trunks had always been slightly notorious for his persistence and insatiable drive when it came to sex, and I had few regrets about the fact that it was finally my turn to be the victim of them.

It didn't take long for the erection to grow under the tender massage, although it's not as if it needed much stimulation; lying in bed with a boxer-brief-clad Trunks, his arm wrapped around me, was enough to already be slightly aroused.

"Wait," I uttered as I grabbed his hand to stop its delicate back-and-forth movement. "I still owe you, remember? Now it's your turn."

I threw the covers off us and jumped atop my partner, straddling his legs as I leaned over him. I felt a chill down my spine, unsure if out of excitement or how cold the room felt without the sheets. A subtle shiver from Trunks suggested it was the latter. "Better warm you up," I whispered, knowing it was probably a little of both.

I leaned down and delicately traced my finger along each ripple of his defined stomach while my head found its way to his chest, my heavy breaths providing some warmth to my powerful companion. My hand moved slowly along his torso, finding his arm and pinning it over his head. It quickly became apparent that Trunks was not used to being on the receiving end, putting up a bit of a struggle against my forceful movements.

"I said it was your turn," I growled, putting some force on the pinned arm and using my free hand to restrain the other one. He reluctantly ceded to my forcefulness but I could tell he was enjoying it, both from the erection digging into my thigh and his loud moan when I bit down on his nipple.

My weight shifted as I brought our bodies together. My lips met his as I began kissing him, gently at first and growing ever more forceful. My leg moved rhythmically against his erection to give him the stimulation he longed for, he groaned while biting into my lower lip.

"Blow me," he pleaded in a single heavy breath. I smiled at the mix of pleasure and desperation in his voice and released his hands, freeing my own so as to uncover the throbbing member from the tight boxers that seemed like they would rip, its elastic already stretched to its limits. I removed the boxers completely and took a moment to admire the beautiful sight of my nude lover.

"Chibiii," he pleaded once more, his now-free hands clawing into the sheets.

I straddled him once more, stroking his thigh and torso with one hand and slowly moving my other hand against the large erection. When the pleading moans grew constant and I sensed he'd had enough teasing, I finally took him into my mouth.

I was startled at first by the loud cry uttered by Trunks, but I knew it was because he was enjoying it. As I bobbed by head up and down, the cries continued, his legs curling and writhing below me, nails digging even deeper into the sheets to the point I thought they would rip. I suddenly felt his hand on the back of my head, as he began to dictate the rhythm; I dutifully followed.

I could sense his pleasure mounting, his force against my head increasing, pushing me down farther than was entirely comfortable; discomfort or not, I enjoyed the tickle in the back of my throat. The harder he pushed, the more I felt that I was losing the control I wrenched from him. Before I knew it, he pulled my head up, held it up by the chin as we stared into one another's eyes for the longest few seconds of my life, a stare that pierced into my soul and said more than any amount of words ever could. Love. Desire. Longing.

I knew what he wanted. I simply nodded; I wanted it too.

He pushed me off himself, rolling me over so that I lay face-down on the bed. I felt the warmth of his powerful body on my back as he lay on top of me. His hot, rapid breaths felt heavy against my neck; his gentle caress of my buttocks sent shivers through my whole body. The hand made its way under my own boxers; I felt more shivers spread as he slowly slipped two fingers inside.

"Does it hurt?" he whispered gently.

"Mm-mm," I groaned. Quite the contrary; it only served to magnify the pleasure I already felt from my own throbbing erection pressing against the bed.

He moved the fingers in and out slowly, taking care to cause me as little discomfort as possible. I felt no discomfort though, only pleasure in each movement, and mounting desperation that the moment for which I'd longed wasn't happening already.

"I'm a Saiyan, god damn it, you don't have to be so gentle," I growled in frustration.

"You sure?" he chuckled, apparently startled by my outburst.

"Just fuck me already!" I yelled, perhaps a little louder than I would have liked.

Trunks pulled me up by the hips and I found myself still face-down against the bed, but with my knees bent. He pulled my boxers down as far as my position would allow and before I knew it he was completely inside me. A mix of pain and pleasure, but mostly pain, spread through me and I was unsuccessful in trying to hold back my groan; Saiyan or not, it hurt.

"You okay?" he grunted, his hand caressing my rear while the slow thrusts continued.

"Yeah," I lied, a wince in my voice giving me away.

"I thought you said you could take it," he said as his thrusts slowed, but continued.

"I can," I groaned in response. "You're just huge."

"No pain, no gain, Chibi," he drawled, thrusting faster and harder.

While it wasn't entirely what the phrase meant, Trunks was right. As he went on, the pain subsided. My body slacked as the groans of discomfort were overcome by moans of pleasure. Trunks seemed like he picked up on this, reaching his hand around to my erection, which was still begging for release. He had barely stroked it three times when I felt absolute pleasure all over my body. I began screaming once more, perhaps even louder than before, with no regard as to who heard us.

"Enjoying it now?" he laughed.

I never answered, simply moaned and rocked in time with each and every single thrust and stroke given by Trunks in perfect unison. When he wrapped his free arm around my body I began feeling hot, most of all my groin, as I felt myself coming closer to climax.

"T-Tr…" I tried saying his name but the pleasure left every other bodily function of mine, speech included, useless. Trunks seemed to have noticed, as his strokes and thrusts grew faster by the minute. Unable to take the pleasure any further I climaxed, evidenced by the scream of mine that pierced the room and the fluids spilled all over the sheets, certainly ruining them. Through the haze of the orgasm I made out Trunks' panting and heaving, his thrusts slowing and ultimately stopping as he pulled out and lay motionless next to me, arm curled around my waist.

"That was…" Trunks panted.

"Phenomenal," I smiled, finishing his sentence.

"I was gonna say 'amazing', but I'll take it," he chuckled.

We lay there silent, our bodies contouring to one another's. I couldn't think of anything to say, overwhelmed by the joy of the moment for which I'd been longing since I was a teenager. I scoured every corner of my mind to think of a moment in which I'd been happier, but try as I might I failed to find one.

"That's not the first time you do that, is it?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You knew it would stop hurting," I answered, unsure of my reason for asking the inconsequential question.

"It's because I'm just amazing in bed," he laughed sleepily.

I merely chuckled at the response, still lost in the euphoria of what had just happened.

As Trunks started snoring softly next to me, I glanced around the dark room for signs of a clock, to no avail. I carefully removed Trunks' arm from my waist and rose from the bed, but not before pulling up the boxers that still hung at my knees. I rubbed my eyes, looking at the clothes littered all over the floor. Despite not being a huge neat freak I picked up and folded the stray clothes, not wanting to mistreat the expensive suit Trunks had bought me. I headed towards the bathroom, absentmindedly making to undress only to realize I was already down to my boxers, and stepped into the shower.

Entranced by the hot water against my skin I reminisced over the events of the past few days. A week ago I never would have imagined that I would finally be free from the living hell I called my life and back here with Trunks, much less with our love for one another declared and in a relationship – if you could call it that. But for all the good that had come there was just as much bad to balance it out, in the form of the revelations of the truth about my mother, brother, and Bulma herself. Dejected at the thought, I began to sigh, which quickly turned into a cough as water went up my nose.

I quickly washed and dried myself, putting on the same clothes I wore yesterday as I had nothing else. I left the vest, tie, and blazer behind, donning only the pants and shirt, rolling up the shirt's sleeves and leaving its top two buttons undone. I could have been mistaken for a businessman getting off a long day of work.

I walked over to Trunks, gently shaking him to interrupt him from his slumber. "I'm gonna get us some food, you hungry?"

"Mm," he grunted sleepily, an answer which was neither a clear _yes_ or _no_ but must have been affirmative. A Saiyan never turns down food. Grabbing Trunks's wallet from his pants, I made my way out the room, into the elevator and down to the lobby.

"Excuse me, can you recommend a good place to get some breakfast?" I asked the man at the front desk.

The man gave me a puzzled look, quickly glancing at his watch. Catching my own glimpse at the various clocks behind the man reading times all over the world, I noticed our time zone read 3 P.M.

"Or, um, lunch, rather," I corrected.

The man's face seemed to contort into a confused grimace as he studied me without saying a word.

"Of course, sir," he answered after a short silence, but not before smiling and odd smile that seemed more sly than it did helpful. "There are places to eat all down this road to the left once you exit the hotel. I'm quite fond this one little restaurant called Sally's. If I had to pick one place, I'd definitely eat there!"

"Sally's, huh?" I mused, thinking back to a girlfriend of mine from long, long ago.

"Yeah, food's great, prices aren't too sky-high, but still pretty exclusive for a classy businessman such as yourself." I chuckled inside at the thought of my clothes making me look the complete opposite of what I am. "Shall I call ahead let them know to expect you?"

"Sure, thanks," I smiled, still paranoid about the way he was looking at me. "Make the reservation for Son Goten," I added to the deskman who had just picked up the phone to dial.

The summer sun was high in the sky when I exited the hotel, casting a warmth that was hard to tolerate with the clothes I currently wore even with the soft breeze that blew. I began coughing once more, probably from the dust floating through the air.

After a fifteen-minute walk I arrived at the apparently-famous Sally's, thinking that "little restaurant" and "exclusive" were both words that fit it well. Adorned mostly in glass with blood-red curtains shielding the view inside, it had but a few expensive cars parked out front, presumably by the valet that stood out in his matching white shorts and polo – perfect attire for this weather.

Upon noticing I was headed for the restaurant, the valet shuffled to the ornate wooden doors to hold them open for me. I thanked him, walking past the seated patrons in the waiting area to identify myself to the greeter.

"Son Goten, my hotel called ahead for a reservation," I spoke as businesslike as possible, to suit the environment and my attire.

"One moment," said the greeter, running his finger down a list, reaching the end, and running it down a second time. "Son Goten, you said?"

"Yeah," I answered, puzzled at the greeter's third run down the list. "The hotel called about twenty minutes ago."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Son, we haven't received any calls for that name, but if you wish we can have a table ready for you in—"

"Mr. Son!" shouted one of the once-seated, now-standing patrons, cutting off the greeter. "Could you please give us details about your relationship with Mr. Briefs!"

I wheeled around, confused, to find a man with slicked-back blond hair holding a microphone inches from my face, and another dark-haired man behind him holding a large video camera.

"I'm sorry?" I asked, despite having heard the question perfectly well.

"How long have you and the future president of the Capsule Corporation been engaging in a romantic relationship?" The strange man's shouting seemed to catch the attention of the other diners, as I felt all heads in the restaurant turning towards the scene he was making.

"Excuse me, who are you?"

"Matthew Staver, Associated Press." The introduction was a bit extraneous; his name and title were printed on the press pass he wore on the collar of his tattered tweed blazer. Perhaps that's why he had never given it in the first place.

"Can we please get a comment from you about the cover of the business section of today's West City Daily Sun?" pressed the reporter as he held up a newspaper that was half-covered in a black-and-white photograph from the previous night of Trunks and I making out in the middle of the hotel ballroom.

The pieces were taking a while to fall into place, but the picture was the smack in the face I needed to figure out exactly what was going on: the kiss was making a bigger media splash than I could have figured, and man at the front desk must have sold me out.

"No comment," I murmured in imitation of so many before me in the media spotlight, walking out the front door I'd only just come in, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible. Not that it did me any good; two media vans were now parked outside.

"Mr. Son! Do you have any affiliation with the Natsumo Corporation or any other rival of Aston Telecommunications?" asked yet another reporter.

"Mr. Son! Are Mr. Briefs' declarations yesterday really true or is this part of some elaborate publicity stunt?"

"Mr. Son!"

"Mr. Son!"

The questions came one after the other, from more reporters that seemed to be appearing from out of nowhere.

"No comment!" I shouted, pushing my way past them, knocking some of them down in the process. I merely ran, fast enough so that none of them could catch up but not so fast to draw even more attention to myself. Regrettably, the whole scene was caught on camera.

I ducked into the first secluded alleyway I could find, taking advantage of being out of sight to fly up to one of the rooftops. I lay there breathing heavily, reeling from and unable to believe what had just happened. My heart was racing. My head was throbbing. I started coughing again; I tried to hide the sound so as to not give myself away, but I was coughing so hard I wouldn't be surprised if I coughed up a lung.

I had to think. Lack of thinking is what got me into this situation in the first place. Although usually it's from my own lack of thinking, this time it was Trunks. Trunks was never the impulsive one; he usually stopped to think things through, think of all the ins and outs of whatever scheme was about to put into action. How could he not have seen that his revenge kiss would turn into a public relations nightmare?

Trunks was the person I needed to talk to; he started all this and stopping it was entirely in his hands. And even if he didn't have any bright ideas, he has money and resources on his side. Peeking over the ledge to make sure the reporters were gone, I took to the skies toward the hotel, staying low over the rooftops to avoid being spotted.

It didn't take long to reach my destination. Not wanting to risk being spotted walking right through the lobby and having the media hound me once again, I used Trunks' old trick of going down from the roof. I found the service elevator and took it down to the floor of the room we were staying. I made sure the coast was clear before heading for the room, only to find it locked.

"Room service!" I shouted as I knocked on the door loudly; it was the first thing that came to mind that would give neither of us away.

When a minute passed without an answer, I knocked again, louder and faster. "Room service!" I hissed, hoping Trunks' heavy sleep wasn't keeping him from hearing me.

I put my ear against the door, hoping my Saiyan hearing would allow me to see if anything was going on inside, or if anyone was even in there, but heard only silence. I closed my eyes and focused to see if I could sense him, only to find faint, almost indistinguishable signatures from all the other humans in the hotel. Wherever Trunks was, it wasn't in there.

_What the hell can I do now?_

I had to find Trunks. After yesterday, I would have thought Capsule Corp. was the last place I would ever go, but he'd been caught in this media frenzy as swiftly and strongly as I had, that had to be where he'd turn. Damage control right at the source.

I left the hotel the same way I'd come in, taking to the skies and heading towards the familiar complex of domes that was, in addition to the home of the entire Briefs family and my old childhood stomping grounds, company headquarters of the Capsule Corporation. The hotel was right in the heart of the metropolis known as West City, so the flight wasn't a very long one. All the while I stayed focused on sensing Trunks' ki. As I neared Capsule I could pick up two distinct signatures: both strong, but one exponentially more than the other. Floating over the complex I pinpointed the stronger signal to the gravity room – must be Vegeta. I headed toward the weaker one, right in the middle of the unfamiliar office sector.

Camera crews surrounded the main building just as they had the restaurant in which I was surprised; unfortunately for me, this wasn't some skyscraper with a secret rooftop entrance. I touched down out of sight and made my way to the main building on foot, doing my best to not be noticed by any of the reporters but knowing that it wouldn't do much good.

Not three steps after emerging from my landing spot one of the about twenty reporters there spotted me. "Mr. Son!" he cried out. This time around I was neither nervous nor angry; I was simply annoyed that "Son Goten" had apparently become a household name. All the reporters and several cameras turned toward me in unison and a flurry of questions were thrown my way.

"No comment," I answered unceremoniously, trying to make my way through them while doing my best not to lose my temper and cause a scene. The persistent journalists wouldn't relent, asking the same questions about the nature of my relationship, wanting to consolidate the rumors of a corporate conspiracy, and even more inane questions such as who I was wearing.

"No comment!" I shouted once more amidst a fit of coughs surely caused by the stress I was now under, my temper flaring and a knot in my stomach growing.

I finally made it to the front door and barged through, not that the guards made much of an effort to hold me back. As I paused in the lobby waiting for the coughing to subside, a petite but busty brunette receptionist brought me a glass of water and a message: "Mr. Briefs wishes to see you in the main conference room."

A short elevator ride later, I was on the third floor of the domed building where through an open door I could see Trunks seated at the end of a long table with eyes closed and his fingers rubbing his temples. Reclining in his executive chair and legs propped atop the conference table, it was the only visible sign that any of this was affecting him. That, and the fact that like me he was also wearing yesterday's clothes.

"Nice mess you've gotten us into," I sighed, apparently interrupting his train of thought as the circular motion of his fingers stopped.

"It's pretty exciting, isn't it?" he laughed from the other side of the room, crossing his arms and looking out through the window that lined the entire south wall of the meeting place.

"That's hardly the word that comes to mind," I spat, annoyed that he was actually enjoying all of this.

"What word does, then?" Trunks queried.

"I dunno. Annoying… infuriating…" I paused, struggling to come up with another word, impeded by my anger and limited vocabulary.

"So you're pissed?" he asked innocently, as if the thought never crossed his mind.

"Of course I'm fucking pissed!" I shouted, appalled at his question. "How the hell am I supposed to react when I'm being chased down by the media for something I'm not even responsible for?"

"Don't act all high and mighty," he quipped. "You wanted to get revenge on my mom for all the shit she's done just as much as I did."

"You're seriously going to pin this on me!" I screamed, bursting into another fit of coughs. "I had no idea what you were going to do! And of course you didn't tell me, you asshole, because you… -cough- damn well knew I would never have agreed if you did!" I sipped on the last of my water, trying my best to control the persistent cough as well as the desire to throw the empty glass at Trunks.

Perhaps it was being called an asshole, but Trunks stood up from his chair as his temper finally flared.

"You're right, so it's all my fault," he groaned sarcastically. "You act as if you put up a fight in the middle of that ballroom… as if you didn't enjoy every minute of it!"

"Goddamn it, Trunks," I shouted. "I always thought you were supposed to be the smarter one of the two. You just can't admit that you didn't think this through and that it's all your fault! At least own up to it!"

"Look at you! Last week you were broke and miserable, and I gave you food, clothes, a home, and on top of that made you into a celebrity. Show a little gratitude!"

"Fuck you, Tr—" I began, interrupted by yet another hacking cough. This time I really did feel like I would cough up one of my lungs. I waited for it to stop, eager to finish insulting the man in front of me, but each time the coughs seemed like they would end I only began coughing harder.

Suddenly feeling weak, I dropped the glass and leaned over the conference table, still coughing up a storm. Looking down at the table, I noticed a steady stream of blood coming out of my mouth with each successive cough.

"Chibi, are you all right?" asked Trunks, a sudden apprehension in his voice.

I looked up from the blood pooling on the wooden table to Trunks, seeing that the look of anger had faded from his face, melting into one of genuine concern. Then I saw the roof as I fell backwards onto the plush carpet. Then the room went completely black.

**To be continued. Please read and review.**


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